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by missharleyquinn
Summary: This story follows moments in the life of Evangeline Took as her life irrevocably entwines with that of Thorin Oakenshield. Romance. Pre-Quest for Erebor. Quite shameless. Thorin Oakenshield / OC (a hobbit).
1. I: A Long Line of Adventurers

"There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something (or so Thorin said to the young dwarves). You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after."

–J.R.R. Tolkien  
_The Hobbit_, page 58.

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Evangeline Took came from a long line of adventurers. Her father and his father before him had both ventured out of the Shire, fighting alongside men and elves alike. For small, simple creatures (as hobbits are), they were marked as queer by the other Shirefolk, but no one could deny the bravery of the Took clan. The stories and treasures they brought home with them were enough to stun the whole of the Shire, even though they tried to keep them as whispers between friends in taverns, and their swords and shields stayed quietly locked away within their holes. Even so, gossip spread faster than the summer breeze in Westfarthing, and Evangeline's parents were always given a heavy eye by the rest of the more respectable folk of Hobbiton who lived nearby.

Her grandfather had gone on many adventures, and his son Fellin was eager to continue on in his footsteps. He had married within the Shire, a gentle hobbit named Marigold who was not interested in adventuring but had fallen hopelessly in love with him. He had already begun his exploring and questing by the time Evie was born, and, by way of necessity, her mother had become a healer. Marigold taught her daughter all the tricks of her trade- how to bandage a wound, what herbs to mix to create the best and most potent salves and cures… Evie learned fast, and was given much practice by way of her father often returning to the Shire in sharp need of medical attention. She vividly remembered listening to his incredible stories- staying up late at night, sitting eagerly by the firelight and bundled up in a special woven blanket from Gondor he had received as a present… He would lean back in is arm chair, nursing whichever bone he had broken on his latest adventure, and his deep, rumbling voice would fill the small hobbit hole. Her mother would tut disapprovingly in the doorframe, but Evie noticed she always stayed and listened to the whole tale before going to get more bandages or attend to dinner.

Evangeline cherished every object her father returned with as a gift for his wide eyed daughter. Her treasures, she called them, even though they were often mismatched objects or things he picked up along the path of his journeys. A stone from the Great River, a pressed flower from the edges of the Greenwood, a carved wooden horse from Rohan… She kept them in a small box, a reminder of all her father had accomplished and a promise for the future. Her favorite treasure, one he had given her when she turned seventeen, was not from one of Fellin's expeditions, but one of his father's. It was a very special necklace- Grandfather Took had gotten it for his wife in the city of Dale, nestled in the mountainside right next to the Lonely Mountain and the Dwarf Kingdom of Erebor. It was a silver necklace with a small opal charm, made by the dwarves who lived in the mountain. Evie was fascinated by the idea; by the dwarves who lived in holes in the ground just as hobbits did, yet seemed so foreign and alien to Shire nature. Their love of gold, their large, cold tunnels absent all the comforts of hobbit holes… She didn't quite understand the descriptions her father shared with her, as much as he tried to explain the glittering halls and the mountains full of gems. It was all too immense for a Shireling to comprehend. He promised he would take her with him some day on an adventure of her own, although her mother refused to hear of anything of that nature.

The necklace was particularly important because of its significance to the Took family. It had come with a letter, addressed from Grandfather Took to his lovely wife, Piper, lamenting their extended parting and promising he would return home as soon as he could. He described the city of Dale and its colorful, flourishing markets, his short time within the halls of Erebor, paying homage to the great King Thrór and his awe at the immense caverns they had built into the mountain, at their riches and the brilliant Arkenstone situated above the king's throne. He had gotten her an opal as an ode to that magnificent gem, for it was impossible to try and explain the magnificence of its color in any other way. _The King Under the Mountain was a sight to behold,_ he wrote, _I shall never forget my time here and the things I have seen. Of all the tales I have heard of the dwarves and their treasures, for ill or grand, Erebor is beyond my every imagining._

Fellin had been out having his own adventures when his mother had received the letter. He fortuitously returned home a few days after she received a second letter, a companion to the first. _Erebor has been taken by the dragon Smaug. The dwarves have abandoned it, and the city of Dale has been lost… _

Her grandfather had not survived the desolation of Smaug. Of those who had been exploring with him, only one kept his life, and he promised that nothing could have escaped the inferno. The wrath of the dragon had turned stone to dust and closed a legendary page in dwarven history all in one terrifying afternoon. Dale was just a memory, haunted by the screams of women and children as they made futile attempts to escape the violent flames and the cold talons of the dragon as it claimed their homes for its unappeasable, unanswerable rage. The men were all but destroyed, yet the dwarves fought on. They defended their mountain home, as impossible a task as it was to undertake or even conceive of. The mighty dwarves shed blood and sweat and flesh attempting to secure their fortress, but no walls could hold out against the might of a fire drake. All was lost, and what remained of Durin's Folk became drifters, bound to wander Middle Earth in search of work where they could find it, and a new home where they could make it. Led by the great king Thrór, now made low by hardship, the dwarves of Erebor were condemned to a life of vagrancy and the monumental task of rebuilding their lost kingdom.

Grandfather Took had played his own role, however unwillingly, in that story, and his son Fellin would never forget it. The tears in his mother's eyes as she wrapped her small hand around the opal on the necklace which had come from that now forsaken place, one of the last gifts of the mountain before it was devastated by Smaug, the sickness she suffered from, weakening her after the news her husband's death… Whether Piper died of plague or of debilitating grief, the Tooks would never know. It spurred Marigold to learn her healing craft with more fervor, and she became well known in the Shire as the hobbit to approach for any injuries. If the gold her husband accrued on his adventures had not been enough to sustain them (it was), then her thriving business as a healer would have secured them nevertheless. It meant that Evangeline grew up in a fine smelling garden full of herbs and other natural remedies and learned much, even as a little girl, about how to heal everything from aches and pains (most of what they saw in the Shire) to missing limbs (a one-time occurrence from a visiting stranger who had heard of Marigold on his travels and had come in search of aid- it was all that was talked of in Westfarthing for a good three years). Evie was proud of her mother and her work, although nothing could compare to her father's adventures. Even so, her grandfather's death loomed over their family, a warning to any Took who left the warmth of his hobbit hole that dangers came in many shapes and sizes- it was not only in the wild lands or in the midst of battle where one could be taken unawares, but even in the thralls of security.

And so this was how Evangeline Took grew up. The necklace was passed down over time, although her mother never cared for the gem as it served as a constant reminder of the grief which could ever be her own, and the little hobbit was given the precious item at the age of seventeen. She wore it everywhere. It was her amulet of adventure, of the great expanse of Middle Earth, of wild and beautiful things, just as much as it was a reminder of her family's past and the price one had to pay for such boisterous freedom. She thought of the battles her father and his father had fought, of the peoples they had fought with and for… Hobbits were supposed to remain home, to cook and clean and read and do all of the comfortable things reserved for them in this world. They enjoyed their simple lives and never wished for anything more. But there was something nastily curious about the Took line which refused such complacency. Which forced its way out into the great unknown, if not just for the sake of it than for the sake of others- to secure for the rest of Middle Earth the quiet comforts of the Shire.

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"_Isn't that something everyone deserves? A nice, warm bed to sleep in and a place to call home?"_

Her father asked her mother these questions when they thought Evie was asleep. Nineteen and burning to follow him on his next adventure, she was splayed against her bedroom wall, listening around the corner to her parents arguing in the next room. Their whispers filled the entire hobbit hole, even as they tried to keep their dispute as discrete as possible.

"_They deserve a home, Mary. It isn't right that we can stay here, safe as anything, while there are people out there risking their lives-"_

"_And what about __**your**__ life, Fellin!? What about my life, and your daughter's? You know she's not going to just sit here idly. She'll hate me for this, and for what? So that we can already be a broken family by the time I get a letter just like your mother did?"_

Evie couldn't see it, but she was sure of the grimace on her father's face. They rarely spoke of Grandfather Took's passing, but it hung in the air every time they argued about Fellin leaving. Her mother wore it like a mourning shroud at each parting, as though it would always be the last. This time, however, her voice was grating and full of something far past her usual hesitation. This time there was a gravity in her words which made Evie's heart beat loudly in her chest.

"_I have to do this, Mary. I have to. It just… It feels like the journey I've always meant to go on. Ever since my father died, we've been involved in this. It's time to finish it."_

"_I just don't see what business of ours it is where they live! Your father was a casualty of their greed and if you-"_

" _And if I die…"_ he paused, swallowing. Evangeline wondered if they were close now… _"If I die, then you can say that I died bravely, fighting for something I believed in. And that's the end of it."_

His words were so final, so forceful, Evie cringed. Why was this journey so dangerous? What was going on out in Middle Earth that needed him so badly? For the first time in her life, the hobbit was genuinely scared that her father might not come back. That adventuring was too dangerous after all, that they would get a letter just as her grandmother had all those years ago (Evie hadn't been born yet, but she had heard the story time and time again), and that the two of them, her and her mother, would be the only ones left- the panic rose in her chest, painful and raw, making her breath catch in her throat…

No. Whatever this was, she trusted in her father. Fear was something you made up in your head. That's what he had always said- that you could control how you felt and that being brave was just conquering that fear and turning it into courage. And the best sort of courage was to fight for someone else and to help another person in need.

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And that was how, after many more desperate arguments and a distraught, tear-filled goodbye, despite Marigold's will and to the shock of all Westfarthing, Fellin and Evangeline Took arrived at the Moria and the Battle of Azanulbizar.


	2. II: Bandages for the Battleworn

Thorin, son of Thrain, stood at the edge of the medical tent, surveying the injured dwarves who had been able to make it all the way to this place of safety, away from the chaos of the battlefield. The Battle of Azanulbizar had ended, and the plane stretching out before the gates of Moria was now strewn with the dead and dying, just as this area was littered with those frantically fighting to avoid such a fate.

"Keep pressure on that for a few minutes and then bandage him up, we need to keep working as quickly as possible. I made another batch of salve; it's right on that table over there…"

Evangeline Took, who was leading a small troupe of dwarves versed in healing of various means and methods, called out orders to the others. It had been quickly proven that, despite her age, she was well accomplished in medicine, and they deferred to her knowledge and experience in mixing herbs and cures. She approached the dwarf as he entered. It took her only a moment to realize who he was, however, and she fought herself to continue walking towards him rather than to flee.

"If you would please sit down, I can tend to your wounds."

She offered, but he shook his head. Her eyes scanned his arms, but she could barely assess his injuries under the blood obscuring them. She hoped most of it was not his, yet she could spot an open gash along his left forearm. That, at least, had to be healed.

"Please… Let me bandage your arm." She begged him, her voice catching in the back of her throat. Evie didn't make eye contact, she couldn't… Her soft grey eyes were trained on the oak branch he still held as a badge of honor and at the blood soaking his left arm and his hands, anywhere but his face. She had never met any sort of royalty before, although she knew well enough to be deferential. Other warriors moaned nearby, the pain from their wounds outweighing their dwarvish fortitude as they lay, waiting to be attended.

"Look to the others first. My wounds are not so severe."

He argued, his voice deep and rumbling as though it came from the very mountain they had just fought over. She flinched at the sound, her strange fear of him rising in her throat again and obstructing her words. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, the hobbit picked up her supplies and bit back her hesitation. _You're here for a reason, Evie. Be brave._

"You… You are the leader of your people now. They would not see you injured. As their example, would you not have yourself healed so that the rest of the healing may begin?"

It was as if the words had come from someone else, not her. Evie's voice was high, much higher than usual (which made her sound like a small, fluttering creature when compared to the stable tenor of his voice), but the words were clear. She caught his grin out of the corner of her eye, and it surprised her.

"And what would a hobbit know of my people?"

He asked, and Evie had to force herself to breathe. She couldn't do this, not now. What would her father say? Where was her father?! No, that wasn't the right thing to think either. Just… Take care of one thing at a time. One step before another. She asked him to sit and set down the branch, and he didn't obey until she chanced a glance up at him and was caught in his bright blue eyes like a fly in a spider's web. She couldn't escape the look he gave her, the curiosity resting on the surface of deep pain and regret… As much as she knew she should look away, she couldn't bring herself to break the sudden and strange connection. She almost jumped as the heavy oak branch fell onto the table when he dropped it, just as she had bid him. He sat down next to his adopted shield, his eyes still on her. She made a small noise in the back of her throat and looked down at his shoulder, trying to master her sudden and unexpected queasiness.

Her fingers trembled as she tugged at the dark fabric of his tunic, stained with blood, trying to remove it without so many words. Thorin understood, and her hands broke away from him as, with the gentle creak of leather, he detached his belt and shrugged off the tunic. His mithril armor glowed in the growing twilight, and for a moment she was dazzled by it. _A prince indeed…_ She thought to herself. None of the other dwarves she had tended to were wearing such an item. He tried to yank it over his head, but couldn't restrain an involuntary growl of pain. Evie forgot her fear of him and immediately went to his aid, tugging the metal garment as he leaned forward. She pulled too hard, however, and the force of her action knocked her backwards as the mithril chainmail slid into her arms. Thorin fell down to her side, pulling the armor off her and casting it gently under the table.

"Are you hurt?"

He asked, and she was surprised to see the genuine concern on his face. Word had already spread of his deeds on the battlefield that afternoon, his dismemberment of the Pale Orc and how he led the dwarves to victory… His every action spoke to the welfare of his people, but why bother with a little hobbit he didn't know and didn't seem to care to know?

"I… I'm fine."

She assured him, and he stood, offering her a sturdy hand to lift her up. His hand was much larger than hers, even though he was only a foot taller. It was strong despite being covered in cuts and bleeding across the top. The battle had been fierce, and as much as his oaken shield had saved him, it had also left splinters in his fingers and had not always fully deflected each attack. His arms, which had not been protected by the fine mithril of his kind, had come out of the battle bloody and battered.

"I'm supposed to be helping _you_, not the other way around."

She chided him, finding her courage. A smile flickered on his lips, although the sadness in his eyes never left. He had lost his grandfather on the battlefield, a man he had been close to, by the whispers she had heard. The great Thrór.

"Here…"

She continued, gently pulling up the thin material of his undershirt so she could see how badly his arm had been damaged. She began to tend to it, cleaning the wound and then taking some of the salve she had made earlier and spreading it on the twisted, jagged cut running across his forearm. He didn't make any noise as she did so, while the others had hissed in pain. Even as she meticulously tugged a few stuck splinters from his arm and hand, although he flinched as any living creature would, still he made no sound. She wasn't surprised- she guessed that he had spent years pretending to be strong and bold and invincible so his people would have someone to follow, someone to believe in… Why drop the façade now? Not to say that he wasn't just as heroic as the rumors suggested (his actions in the afternoon's battle surely spoke for themselves), but… Evie could see the bitter sadness in his eyes, the broken hurt of a child who had just lost his hero. And that was finally something, underneath all the armor and the bravery and the majesty… That was something she could understand.

She felt his eyes on her as she continued her work by wrapping a bandage around his bleeding forearm. She didn't know how to react to him, to the tightness she felt in her chest as her fingers danced carefully along his skin. She had never been put so on edge before, and the hobbit couldn't begin to explain it. Her cheeks flushed as she felt him lean towards her.

"What is that, around your neck?"

Her large, doe eyes glanced up at him, trapped by his deep blue ones just as surely as they had been the first time. She was silent for a moment before the spell was broken and she managed to pull the opal out from beneath the cloth at the top of her dress.

"It's.."

She stuttered, suddenly realizing that he had recognized it from even the glimmer he had chanced of the stone.

"An opal of Erebor."

He breathed, his voice full of simultaneous enchantment and mourning.

"Yes…" She replied, her eyes searching his face. His expression was the perfect picture of longing, of desire and destiny all tangled up into one profound image of desperate need.

"I heard it was beautiful…"

She shared anxiously, struck by the way he now looked off into the distance, as if he could see something she couldn't. She then realized she had upset him and bit the inside of her mouth as she watched the muscles of his jaw tighten in reaction to her words.

"You heard."

The dwarf prince repeated callously, growing instantly cold. It was as if the sun had been shining warmly on her and now had passed behind a cloud, darkening her world. His mind was filled only with deadly fire and searing heat… Of trees like torches burning through the night, the only pyres their dead would be offered after their lives had been stolen along with their homeland.

"You know nothing of the dwarves, or of Erebor. Of my people and their suffering."

His tone was unchallengeable, and yet as Evangeline loosed the cuffs around his wrists with quivering fingers and set them down on the table next to him with a heavy thud and the clinking of steel on wood, she couldn't help but do exactly that. The look in his eyes, the bitter pride of his race and their terrible suffering… Yet that grief was not exclusive to him and she would not have him think such. She would never be able to explain why she fought with him then; maybe it was fatigue or simply her mounting bravery, but she did.

"This necklace was a present from my grandfather to my grandmother… Just after he sent it he… He was lost in the desolation of Smaug. I had not been born yet, it's true, and I have never been on an adventure before, not like this… But my father swore that he would come and help the dwarves," she paused, "Help _your people_ take back Moria from the orcs. He knew he would most likely die in the battle, as hobbits are not fearsome warriors, but he came despite my family's wishes. And I came with him. My name is Evangeline Took and as much as I am not a part of your people and never will be, somehow our fates are tied together… And… And I'm not sure if I lost a father today just as surely as you lost your grandfather, because I have been too busy here to go and try to find him, but every moment he does not come here I fear he must have been lost..."

She trailed off, tears filling her large grey eyes. As soon as she had begun to speak, Evie had been unable to stop, and the words tumbled from her lips like an avalanche of painful emotion. She had tried not to think about it before, but now that she said the words, now that she heard them spoken, she was dreadfully certain her father had died on the battlefield, just as her mother had warned. The small hobbit tried to bite back her tears, but it was no use. She closed her eyes, feeling more hot tears spilling down her cheeks out of embarrassment- her fear buried under a wellspring of private agony. Here she was, crying uncontrollably in front of a dwarf prince who she could tell was already using all his strength to keep his own emotions in check.

Thorin closed his own eyes, taking a deep breath. Perhaps it was his own shame at what he now realized was a cruel and unfounded comment (but how could he have possibly known?), or simply everything he felt after the day's long, exhausting battle and the results of it- a victory, but at what cost? The carnage was immense, immeasurable, and he didn't know how to pick up the pieces and start again. How to continue on…

Evangeline sputtered as she felt his hands on her face, his large, steady fingers brushing away her tears. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him tuck a stray blonde curl behind her ear. His touch was gentle, his cautious fingers clearing her soft skin of the melancholy badge of her sentiment.

"I'm sorry."

He confessed, his voice low. Evangeline looked up at him, her eyes glossed over but producing no more tears; she had been shocked out of her grief by his advance. Her clouded grey eyes met the steely blue of his and profoundly recognized the same sentiment there. The hobbit's heart pounded in her chest almost as if it understood some secret she could not. Thorin's large, scarred hands were slow in leaving her face, his fingertips skimming off the edge of her jawline as he inched back.

"I know."

She whispered, her gaze locked with his for the third time.

It would not be the last.


	3. III: By the Stone of the Mountain

Evangeline Took remained in Moria for a few weeks more, tending to the injured and working to help create the healing she had mentioned before. Physically, at least. The rest was up to Thorin Oakenshield, as he had begun to be called, the dwarf prince whose legend grew each day. Evie had not spoken with him since their extraordinary exchange on the last day of the battle. They had traded glances, but never words. Just as she had predicted (it seemed the women in her family were uncanny in their foresight), she was forced to bury her father as surely as Thorin saw both his grandfather Thrór and his brother Frerin interred into the stone of the mountain, his own father at his side. She saw him through the tears clouding her eyes, standing tall with the nobility of his race, his head bent elegantly as he watched the burial.

She felt jealous and angry and bitter toward him all at once- the way he stood so still, so calm and cold… The respect she had felt for him before, when she had assumed that he didn't want to show fear or sadness in front of his people, crumbled away in the wake of her own overwhelming grief. How did these dwarves go about their lives, showing such little emotion?! Didn't they feel anything at all? The memory of his fingers against her skin only made her more angry, and a little frightened. She didn't understand this warrior, this _king_… And maybe she wasn't meant to. Maybe this was all very much beyond hobbits altogether. Even as she thought it, however, she looked across to where the other dwarves were tending to their dead, and it struck her that just as not all hobbits were alike (to confuse a Took and a Proudfoot would be a sour notion indeed), so were the dwarves different. For although there were many who appeared as stony and stoic as Thorin, there were also those who bent over their brothers, their friends, tears falling from their eyes into their beards in a sight that made her quake with sympathy. The lament of the dwarves touched her own despair, and she felt less alone in her grief knowing that she was not the only fatherless child to feel burning tears cascade down her face as though a relentless torrent.

Although her father had been a simple hobbit, just one more of the numberless dead, Evie had been surprised to see that he was laid to rest with a special sword of dwarven make- one which had not been his own. His daughter, honored yet rendered inconsolable by her father's brave sacrifice, was undeniably humbled by the gesture, and astonished that the dwarves could show such grace in recognizing his support. She was also given a small token, a single ring of mithril, for her own services in healing the wounded. She had saved many dwarves' lives during and after the battle, and they were more grateful than she had expected when all was said and done. Theirs was a quiet, arrogant thanks, but she knew it came from the heart. As much as none of the warriors she tended to had wanted to admit that they needed aid at first, especially from the likes of a hobbit, they were not too proud to acknowledge that they owed their lives to her when the wounds had begun to heal and the battle put into perspective. She received a few gifts of gratitude and even one marriage proposal, and when she was finally packed up and ready to return to the Shire, she felt a deep heaviness in her heart.

Moria was not for the dwarves of Erebor, those of Durin's folk who would continue to wander and find a more permanent home than what the mines could afford. It was a dwarven stronghold, to be certain, but it was not theirs. She was not the only one packing and preparing to move on. She left Moria a wiser and more stalwart hobbit than she had been before, tested through the blood of the battle if not the clash of its steel. She had dealt with the massacres of war just as surely as if she had been on the battlefield itself. She cared for the warriors, injured and struggling although never able to admit it, and bolstered their spirits as well as their broken bodies. The plight of the dwarves had always been the cause of her father, something he obsessed about little to her own knowledge (although she guessed her mother had known about this long before he had decided to go to Moria), but Fellin had shared his feelings with his daughter as they traveled to the deadly mines. She was his only heir, and he passed onto her not only a love for adventure and for placing herself in the service of others, but also an unshakable tie to the mountains so alien to her Shire home.

And so her fate was tied to that of Durin's folk in a peculiar and unpredictable way. Evie looked down at the mithril ring on her finger and wondered how this reality would continue to change her life- interaction with the dwarves had already ripped from her a grandfather she would never know and a father she would mourn for until the day she died… What else? Where would this new fate lead her? For now she was wrapped up in it too, in the bane of her family, and as much as she wanted to deny it, she realized the legacy of the Took line in herself. This may have been her father's final journey, but it had only been her first.

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**Author's Note:** **I look forward to hearing your comments and reviews! This is the first thing I've posted on here, so it will be an interesting journey. **** Thank you for reading!**


	4. IV: More than a Memory

Evangeline had spent her twentieth birthday at Moria, unbeknownst to anyone around her. It was not until after she had celebrated her thirty fifth birthday that next she encountered the dwarves. She was a very different hobbit, then. Stronger, wiser, and much more learned in the ways of Middle Earth. Evie had been on many more adventures, and as difficult as it always was for her to leave her mother behind, so alone in their Shire home, she couldn't resist the pull of the wildlands, of the cities of men and the forests of the elves… It was too hard to remain in the Shire after all she had seen. After the adrenaline rush of dealing with blood and steel and the heavy weight of time and its immediacy as she tried to rescue the lives of the dwarves at the Battle of Azanulbizar… Drinking and eating and walking and reading and all those lovely things which composed the life of a hobbit of the Shire had lost their agency over her. As much as she loved her home, the monotony of her life had become stifling; never moreso than when she looked at her father's maps and considered all the exotic places she could travel to. Despite the mortal history of her family, she couldn't deny who she was and as much as it made her the most scorned daughter in all of Westfarthing, her mother's desperate pleas couldn't rein her in.

And so, at thirty five years old, she found herself in the great city of Gondor.

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Evie was in a company of men who had been scouting nearby territories for signs of intruders. Something foul had been going on in the hinterlands of Gondor, and the hobbit had been recruited to ride with them and discover the source of the disturbance. She was small, quick, and quiet, which was always useful for reconnaissance, especially at night when she could spy on others and appear almost invisible in the darkness, if she wished it. Hobbits were particularly good at sneaking, although Evie was not so fond of that sort of thing. She preferred the daylight to the darkness, as almost all hobbits do, but she wanted to help where she could and so she went along with them. The company was a small but merry bunch, and after their first expedition had yielded no result they returned to Minas Tirith for a few days of rest before setting off again in another direction.

Those friends Evie had were fellow adventurers, wanderers, and men for hire, therefore she remained with the four man company in most of her free time (she was the fifth member, and the only female). The hobbit had become handy with a dagger and was quicker than anyone she had so far encountered, which meant she didn't worry about being the vulnerable member of the group- if anything attacked her or if one of her fellows discovered himself in a predatory mood, her hand would be quick to find its small but deadly weapon, always sheathed at her side or under the folds of her dress. But all in all, theirs was a happy lot, and she was enjoying their time together, wandering and hunting for the answers they were tasked with finding.

On this particular summer afternoon, the company found themselves at the local blacksmith's. Barenir was in search of a new blade, and they had heard tell that the swords offered here were of great make. And so they collected at the open entrance, avoiding the heat of the smith, which proved especially taxing on such a warm afternoon. Despite the discomfort, they all felt the need to look over the swords for sale and see what could be forged for the right amount of coin.

As the men squabbled over which weapon appeared the most formidable and which would cut the cleanest, Evie adventured a little farther into the workshop. She heard the heavy _clank_ of a hammer striking hot steel, and was interested to see the master at work. She was learning a fair amount about swords and their make, but the process itself constantly intrigued her. The searing heat, the flames, the metal as it bent into the proper shape, directed and manipulated only with careful skill and a strong arm. It was all well beyond her to craft such an item, which was perhaps why the task held such interest to her. Besides, the men were always such a bore when they got to talking weapons for long periods of time. The hazards of such company, she supposed.

She was drifting absentmindedly toward the _clank, clink_ of the smith without direct thought or purpose. It was warm, dreadfully warm, and she had just thought of turning around and returning another day when the heat was less unbearable when she saw him. Or at least, she thought she saw him. It couldn't really be _him_, could it?!

Evie marched forward, her grey eyes wide with surprise. He appeared too short to be a man, certainly. But even if he was a dwarf… There was no way in all of Middle Earth that they had somehow ended up in the same shop, after all these years… Even so, the curious hobbit stepped closer and watched the taut movement of his muscular arm as the blacksmith swung his hammer with alarming force into the golden hot portion of the blade he worked on. The motion was so violent, so fierce, she was at first afraid to distract him from his task. But if it was _him_… She was too caught up in the surprise of discovering him here, of all places, that she couldn't resist raising her voice over the greedy crackle of the flames beside her and the ferocious clang of the hammer upon its target.

"Thorin? Thorin Oakenshield?"

She had thought of him often since they had last seen each other, since the Battle of Azanulbizar had become more and more of a memory than a reality… Yet she had never guessed in all her life that she would meet him again. The blacksmith paused in his work. He was slow in turning towards her, almost hesitant. The dwarf placed his tools on the table next to him and, finally, he looked at her. He seemed more offset than she was (for once), his sharp blue gaze full of some emotion she couldn't recognize. He was wearing a dark green shirt, the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows. He had soaked through it, however, and sweat decorated his face and collected in his hair. She couldn't imagine working here for hours on end, enduring the relentless heat of the raging fire, the oppressive furnace so close and right in the middle of summer… Despite his obvious discomfort, Evie could not help but take some secret pleasure in seeing him like this, laboring like any normal man. To see him without his armor or even his mantle of nobility… The image did not strip him of honor, she doubted any force in the world could perform such a monumental task, yet it did make him seem just as mortal as the rest of them. He knew a hard day's labor and was unafraid of such brutal toil.

Finally, Evie filled the tempestuous silence with a brief reintroduction (she doubted he would remember such a trivial detail as the name of a hobbit he had once met), her eyes searching his as if to discover some secret hidden in their depths.

"I don't know if you remember me, my name is-"

"Evangeline." He cut in, his voice just as deep and sonorous as she remembered. "Evangeline Took, I believe."

She was momentarily stunned. For a split second she was right back in that medical tent at Moria, tending to his wounds and feeling hot under his gaze. She remembered his hands on her cheeks, the way he had looked at her…. But that had been a different time entirely. She had been no more than a child, and they had both been bound by their grief. Even so, she felt caught by his arresting blue eyes just as surely as she had during their first meeting. Yet she was no longer the fluttering, flustered little Shireling she had been before. She was of age now, and had taken to acting like it.

"I cannot deny my surprise at your memory. It seemed to me you do not take great notice of any who are not of your people."

She observed, the initial shock of seeing him again wearing off as she recalled his cold words at Moria, edged in the rough manner of his kind. The image of him standing on the mountainside, his face drawn but stoic, struck her even now.

"I would not forget one who has done such a profound service for the dwarves. And your father… His sacrifice is still fresh in my mind."

Evangeline looked away, swallowing her next breath. She felt embarrassed by him, somehow. Perhaps it was because of the very real possibility she had thought of him wrongly all these years. She assumed he had taken lightly the hobbits and their involvement in the Battle of Azanulbizar, that he was far too absorbed in his lordship over his people to think of others. A strange discomfort began to itch at her. The blonde twisted the small mithril ring around her finger, absentmindedly fiddling with her token from the great battle.

"You have taken up smithing?" She asked, although it wasn't a true query. The answer was all too obvious, and the look in his eyes suggested that it had been the wrong question to try. "It seems you have made some very fine pieces."

She added, hoping to relieve the tension. He accepted the compliment with a gracious nod of his head, and she could feel his eyes still on her even as she investigated the completed blades on the workbench next to him. Someone walked by them- they didn't speak or stop and so neither dwarf nor hobbit took note of the passive intruder, save to realize that the world was still turning outside of their peculiar conversation.

"What brings a hobbit to Gondor?"

He asked, finally, and Evie was saved the trouble of thinking up a less awkward question to ask him. Every query she considered seemed to revolve around the dwarves and their search for a new homeland, and each seemed more painful than the last. She tried on a smile, her eyes meeting his again despite her rekindled fear of the paralytic nature of his gaze.

"There have been attacks on travelers at the borders of Gondor's territory. We do not know who or what has been causing the trouble, but a group of adventurers has set out to seek the source of the disturbance. I was passing through and discovered myself to be one of them."

She explained, feeling much more accomplished than perhaps she had a right to. Yet the smile creeping onto the dwarf prince's lips served to abruptly knock off her shroud of self-glory.

"Adventurers…"

He mused, and Evie felt herself flush with immediate indignation, although it would have been impossible to tell, as her cheeks were already pink from the heat of the smith.

"Yes," she fought, taking a sharp breath of frustration, "I have been on many adventures since last we met, and I find myself well received in many of the lands of Middle Earth."

Her tiny hands balled into fists. The hobbit's grey eyes lit up as they met the spark of joviality in his bright blue ones. One of his hands rubbed the other absentmindedly, perhaps relieving some of the strain built up in his muscles from the rigorous labor he submitted to. The blacksmith tried to conceal the grin on his face, although he nodded at her words.

"I meant no offense."

He claimed, and the concrete tone of his voice chipped away at her anger. She breathed out through her nose, watching him as he stepped around the hot anvil which still separated them.

"Yet it is surprising to me that such a small creature as yourself could become so renowned an adventurer."

Thorin confessed, eyes twinkling in the heat, which hung like a cloud around them. Evie was haughty in her reply, stepping forward to meet him in front of the blazing fireplace. She looked up at him, her button nose pointed proudly in the air, as she ardently contested,

"Pardon me, Master Dwarf, but you are only a few inches taller than I am. We Tooks are very large and very capable, as you should know."

"I wouldn't dare dispute the fact."

He replied, his lips curling into another smile. There was something secretive about his smiles which Evie couldn't begin to guess at. It infuriated her. This was only aggravated by the charming tone of his voice as he conceded to her, and the way the sweat glistened on his unclean brow, dirt and dust collecting on his tan skin like a badge of his toil… His sapphire eyes were striking in the refracted light of the smith, and she was captured by them for a split second- just long enough to make her slip off her high ground and tumble down to his. He was, in truth, over a foot taller than her, but the dwarf was of spectacular height for his race and the hobbit would be considered tall for her own, standing at nearly four feet. The distinction between them was not so great a thing, as far as she would admit.

"Well…"

She began, but what it was she began she hadn't the slightest idea.

"How long are you staying in Minas Tirith?"

He asked, and she was relieved to find her footing in a clear response.

"We stay in the city for tonight and one more, then we leave to continue our search."

"I see…" He replied, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. She was hit by the sudden, queasy sort of realization that she enjoyed the idea of his attention. Of his gaze upon her. It wasn't right of her to think so, or to reminisce about his large, calloused fingers against the soft planes of her cheeks… She wondered if he remembered that moment as clearly as she did. He recalled her name without difficulty, which suggested that perhaps he did… The very possibility made her feel weak inside, but also encouraged the tiny, tough ball of courage in her chest to take action. Drawing in a shallow, broken breath, the hobbit threw caution to the wind (of which there was none in the oppressively hot smith), and took a daring chance.

"Would it be so very untoward for a capable, yet perhaps reckless hobbit adventurer to buy a dwarf-prince turned blacksmith a drink?"

Thorin made a noise in the back of his throat which she guessed was as close a sound to laughter as the dwarf could achieve, and it made her heart constrict in her chest. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until he grinned and she felt it erupt from her chest in a sigh of pithy relief. All the discontent she had felt earlier washed into a strange comfort as she tried to commit his smile to her memory while it still lingered upon his noble countenance. He was no longer the dark, stoic mourner of her reminiscence, but someone real and relatable. Soaked in his own sweat, his long, dark hair tousled around his shoulders in knotted, slick raven strands, dirty from the smith and tired from hard labor, she finally understood him. Thorin Oakenshield, stripped of his armor and his pride, was a dwarf willing to go to great lengths for his people. One who knew sacrifice but, it appeared, was not wholly unfamiliar with how to smile. She caught herself hoping to see him smile again and reveal another small part of himself. Her desire troubled her, but all the same she could not resist its lure.

"There's a pub not far from here and I've found they serve excellent mead… Although if you live here you no doubt know if it."

She stammered, and he affirmed, his voice as deep and commanding as ever,

"The Dull Blade. I could meet you there tonight just before sundown, if you think it not _untoward_."

He teased her, and she lacked the decency to blush. There was a noise from the front of the shop, and they heard a voice carrying over the other sounds of the smith and the snapping of the eager flames beside them.

"Evie! Where'd you get off to?!"

The hobbit took a breath, a soft smirk playing on her full lips.

"Who is left to judge such a thing?"

She pointed out, raising her eyebrows and stepping around the anvil to go look for her friends.

"I look forward to our next meeting, Master Dwarf."

She regained a little of her earlier confidence as she slipped off into the steam of the smith, heading towards the entrance and her companions. Thorin did not reply, but simply watched her go, still doubting that they had spoken at all and that their encounter was not a fever dream easily blamed on the heat. All the same, as he turned back to his work and the heavy mallet struck steel once again, he couldn't resist an amused smile. It had not been so awfully long since he had thought of the hobbit and their extraordinary meeting. _I cannot deny my surprise at your memory. _It seemed that hers was equally as sharp. He was glad to know he had lived on in her thoughts as well… For it was not simply a sharp memory which had maintained Evangeline's name in the dwarf's mind. How could he possibly forget her?

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**Author's Note: Shameless, I know…. But that's as advertised, I suppose. ;)  
Thank you so much for all your comments- I really appreciate hearing from you!**


	5. V: Looking Behind and Looking Ahead

Evie took a deep breath, clenching her fists as she collected her nerves outside the tavern's door. It was sunset- all of Minas Tirith was bathed in a beautiful orange glow. The white stone of the city of men reflected the brilliant rays, creating a soft, warm haze of color and light. The sumptuous orange sky was mingled with deep, potent red and gentle, golden yellow. She appreciated the spectacle, yet it would be false to claim there were not other thoughts pressed into the foreground of her mind. How Evie had found the courage to ask Thorin to see her, she could not guess. Now that the moment had come, she felt the pressure of it building inside her and clamping down on her heart like a vice. The hobbit was surprised at her own sentiment- when had it ever mattered to her what the dwarf prince thought of her or her family? She had been indignant with him after their first meeting. Yet things had changed since then… Now everything seemed inexplicably different. They had both matured, albeit dissimilarly, since last they spoke, and it seemed wrong not to follow the strange pull that led her to him. Despite everything that had been and regardless of what could be, she realized that her feelings for him were even more complicated than she had previously thought. Whatever it was, she refused to be afraid of it. A Took didn't turn away from his or her fears, and even though she was feeling more and more like she would rather fight an orc than step through the door laid out in front of her, she knew it was the right thing for her to do. Evie followed the direction of the wind and went wherever her life took her, and if this was where she was now, she supposed by Bandobras Took it must be for a reason.

Evangeline bit her lip, trying to work up the audacity to enter the Dull Blade. Knotting her hands together in front of her and gazing helplessly out at the sunset, as if the stretch of color and space could advise her any more than her heart could, she did not notice his approach. Many nights out in the wild had taught her to save face despite a shock, and she was later pleased to reflect that she neither jumped nor made a sound despite her jarring surprise at his greeting.

"Looking for someone?"

Evie closed her eyes for a second, prying every bit of compunction she could manage out of her and casting it to the horizon line.

"Thorin."

She turned towards him, managing what she hoped was a charming smile, although she doubted its appearance despite its intent. He had changed clothing- the dwarf now wore a blue tunic which was slightly more elaborate than the other he had worn earlier in the day. The signs of his labor were gone or else obscured- he had bathed, his hair was clean and while it would be wrong to call it combed or orderly (unlike the elves, who also maintained long hair, dwarves were not known for fine grooming habits), his long, dark mane was brushed out of his face and the sight of him now appeared in stark contrast to that of the toiling blacksmith she had met earlier.

Evie nodded her head, greeting the dwarf. He stepped past her and opened the door for her, gesturing into the warm, comfortable looking interior. The sunset had brought a chill over the land, and the day's heat wore off as the winds danced through the fortress. The modest fire of the tavern was nothing like the miserable furnace of the smith, and Evie was content to find a table near the wall sharing space with the fireplace, so she could watch the flames dance if she looked over the dwarf's shoulder. It cast a cheering glow over the scene, and she enjoyed the color and the warmth. Thorin didn't even glance at the fire as they entered, and he was satisfied sitting facing away from it, as if it were a scornful thing.

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Once drinks were brought and greetings exchanged, the couple found themselves at an impasse. They stared at each other, and although the silence was unexpected it was not entirely awkward. There was something between them, something unspoken yet understood. Neither could quite fathom that they were here, in a tavern, together, but somehow it was true. Whatever strange circumstances and sentiments had brought them to this moment in time, each started to concede its reality. Evangeline Took sat across from Thorin Oakenshield in silence, her thumb drifting absentmindedly across the handle of her mug and her eyes directed at the fire beside them. She felt his gaze on her, and there was something already familiar about how he refused to look away when she did. No amount of tension could distract Thorin's unyielding gaze- he was not a dwarf to fear looking another in the eyes, for whatever reason. And so he watched her from across the table as she self-admonishingly tried to figure out why she had thought they would be able to have a conversation.

"What brings you to Gondor?"

She returned his question from earlier, feeling sheepish as she did. The hobbit knew very well why the dwarf prince was in the city of men- he had taken to blacksmithing (a sour fate for a dwarf, especially one such as Thorin, son of Thrain) in order to sustain himself and his people, as many of the dwarves of Erebor were forced to do after being cast out of their homeland. She knew their situation very well, and had always entertained an open ear whenever she heard talk of the unhappy fortunes of the dwarves. Even though the Battle of Azanulbizar and her visit to Moria became more and more distant every day, her interest in the fate of the dwarves only grew.

"I take whatever work I can, as I must."

He replied simply, and she was surprised he did not brush the question off entirely. She hazarded a glance at his face and remarkably did not regret it- there was no anger in his eyes. He was calm, much more collected than he had been earlier at the blacksmith's shop. He was expecting her queries now, he had prepared for this sort of idle talk. _Why are you here? How long are you staying? Do you enjoy your work?_ The possibilities seemed just as vague and banal to Evie as they must have to him. So why had he come?

"Do you think you will ever go back?"

Thorin was about to take a sip of his drink but he froze in the middle of the motion. His mug was suspended just below his lips, as if he had been momentarily turned to stone. Slowly, cautiously, he set down the wooden tankard. His startlingly blue eyes searched her grey ones in a desperate attempt to understand without asking for an explanation.

"To Moria."

It was a whisper, almost lost to the din of the crowded tavern. Thorin's jaw tightened and for a moment this was her only reply. His drink finally made the journey to his lips and he took a healthy gulp of the satisfying golden liquid before setting it back down on the table with a thud. When he finally answered, he didn't look at her. It was that which caught her off guard- the dwarf always seemed to make eye contact when he spoke, as if he could read more from a facial reaction than he could from a response. But now his moody gaze was caught on another table, on a passing group of drunkards, on anything but her. She asked herself why but it was just as hopeless as asking him the same.

"No."

His reply was so curt she did not know how to react. The deep, concrete rejection made her unconsciously sit up straighter on her bench. She did not have to ask why; he answered her before she could begin the thought.

"Moria, for now, is lost. Someday it may be taken back, but not by my people. Moria, the Iron Hills… They are the strongholds of dwarves, but not of my clan. We are only visitors there. My grandfather was King Under the Mountain, of Erebor… That is our home. And until we reclaim it…"

He stopped himself, refusing to say any more on the subject. It was as if he felt he was giving too much away, revealing the secrets of his people… Evie couldn't understand it, or him. Why did everything have to be so mysterious? Hobbits were not secretive folk. They said what they meant and they rarely withheld a comment if they thought of it. Everything was free and easy in the Shire- there were no secrets confined within their hobbit holes or stuffed inside the flower beds of their sprawling hills. Everything was simple. Such things were very different elsewhere, and for other peoples. Men occasionally tried on an air of mystery, but often would reveal their plans and intentions when compelled by the pressing need to expose their own genius. Elves were a culture apart; she did not count them with all the rest, but dwarves… Dwarves, of all those she had encountered, seemed the most caught up in their own affairs and unwilling to share their burdens with any but their own kin. It seemed this was not true only of the race in general, but also of the groupings within their kind- the Iron Hills, Moria, Erebor… Each was distinct and meant to keep it that way. Durin's Folk would never be satisfied until they had their own mountain to call home.

"You intend to reclaim it."

She echoed, wondering how one could possibly undertake such an endeavor. She had never seen a dragon (there was only one, after all, and from what she had heard it rarely left the stone halls of the Lonely Mountain), but had heard many tales of Smaug's wrath and the infinite dangers he could inspire. One flick of his long tail, a single breath of flame… Her first stories were of her father's adventures, and the memories of her grandfather. Of dragons and fire and fear. She wondered if Thorin had been there, for the destruction of Erebor. She guessed, by the pain glimmering in his eyes, that he had. It was a paralyzing idea. He had seen it, watched his beloved home be desolated by the dragon's inexorable fury… And yet he would still risk his life to return and try to fight for his lost home. There was something noble in the concept. Noble, yet foolish. No one could survive a dragon. Not even the great Thorin Oakenshield.

"You were there, weren't you."

It was not a question. Thorin took a shallow breath, his mouth forming a grim line across his face. It was the only reply necessary. Evangeline could not resist the urge to reach across the table and take his hand. Her small hand closed around his fingertips, a physical sign of sentiments too complex to form into words. She had not intended for it to be like this; she had wanted their meeting to be cheerful and light hearted, a way to get to know each another… Yet they always seemed to strike right at the core of one another, no matter the circumstances. Her tears at Moria, the slow but visible breaking down of his stony temperament… She saw the cracks in his armor more now than ever before. He was a dwarf who thought ill of vulnerability, who considered emotion akin to weakness… She understood it, as much as she disagreed with it- the need for a prince to act as the leader of his people, invincible and driven. Thorin was consumed with bereavement for a wretched history he could not change and fear that his actions in the future could never remedy the mistakes of the past. He wore his mourning like a mantle, and it bore down on him with a weight which made Evie cringe with compassion. She had seen him at Moria and judged him for his stoicism, but now that she was older she understood that his life was more complicated, even, than she had thought before. The loss of Erebor clung to his every waking moment, and it was a plague, a sickness of the heart which could only be healed by one balm and one alone- a return to his mountain home.

Evie was a healer; she had a talent for recognizing the pains of others, and although she credited herself with often aiding in finding a solution to their grievances, she also acknowledged when her patient was a lost cause. She would do what she could for the dwarf prince, if there was anything that could be done, but it was obvious that his life followed only one path. It was not her business to suggest otherwise or interfere with that destiny, whatever its uncertain results.

She held his hand more tightly, wishing there was something else she could do to express her sympathy for him and the perpetuity of his heartrending loss. He would never stop fighting the past, she could see as much in his eyes. It hurt her to think of the burden he carried.

"Perhaps that is why I do not understand your adventuring."

He commented, removing his hand from hers to pick up his drink again. Evie bit her lip, leaning back and taking an uncomfortable, broken breath. Her first instinct was to look away from him and back at the fire, but she knew it would get her nowhere. She was learning to contend with him, and if she could not face him head on there was no point in defending herself at all.

"Why is that?"

She demanded, her chest tightening as she anticipated his reply.

"We are forced to wander because we have no home, and yet you have abandoned yours to go on your journeys as if such a thing is of no importance."

His words felt sharper than a dagger pressed to her heart. How was he so immediately capable of making her feel guilty and thoughtless and cruel all at once? She remembered her mother's tears, Marigold's cries as her daughter left for the first time after she had returned from Moria, of her home in the Shire and its plentiful, endless bounty… All this time she had claimed she was trying to help other people, but was she truly running from a life of peace and prosperity? What had she accomplished since she had gone?

"I- I do not doubt that my affairs must seem peculiar to you," she began, cursing herself for tripping over her words. "But perhaps that is a matter of legacy. Yours, it seems, is to reclaim the throne of your grandfather. Mine is to honor the sacrifices of my father and my own grandfather, who vowed to help others in need and devote themselves to a life far from the comforts of their homes. So perhaps… Perhaps we are not so different, after all."

Thorin's sapphire eyes widened and his dark brow furrowed. The great dwarf prince was bewildered for a moment, and then his expression slowly morphed to one of amusement and the corner of his mouth tugged up in an uncharacteristic smile. Evie was about to say something indignant in response to what seemed like mocking, when he added,

"You never cease to surprise me, Halfling."

She was used to being called such by men, but from his lips it had a different sound to it. She was not sure whether she should be offended or conciliatory.

"I meant no insult, and it appears that I have been, yet again, mistaken in my judgment."

The hobbit's mouth had been open to protest, and she closed it as he finished speaking. Taking a small sip of her mead, she fought against the frustration and confusion swelling within her. Thorin was endlessly aggravating- she never knew what he would say or how he would react. And yet Evie could not deny the way she felt when she realized that his smile was complimentary rather than derogatory, and that it was for her. She shamed herself for it, but it was becoming harder and harder for her to deny the growing authenticity of her feelings.

"Perhaps, Master Dwarf, you should not be so quick to judge."

"Perhaps so."

He conceded, still smiling. Thorin silently considered her from across the table, enjoying the way the warm glow of the fireplace illuminated her round, fair featured face. Her grey eyes were large and appraising in the pale light, and he admired the fire which rose in them whenever she thought herself to be insulted. She was rather like a dwarf, in that way (his people would not accept an insult for anything), and he respected her for it. His smile echoed on her well-shaped lips as she began to look at him more amicably once again, and he was grateful for it. The dwarf was even beginning to regret removing his hand from hers, but that was a foolish thought- he knew more than anyone that such things should not be, and delighting in her would prove a mistake. His decision to join her here had already been too great an indulgence, and yet he regretted it far less than he knew he should. The words duty and honor meant more to him than any others, but for one night he supposed he could loosen their hold on him and appreciate the company of one he knew to be a true friend to his people.

"Evangeline…" He began, and could not finish his thought when their gaze locked once more. His eyes narrowed as he searched for the correct words, if there were any for such a thing. She tilted her head, intrigued by the tone of his voice. It was much softer than usual, and it surprised her.

"Thank you."

She made a playfully dismissive face, scrunching her nose and lifting her eyebrows, a reminder (not that he needed one) that she was a hobbit and not, in fact, a dwarf (dwarves rarely made faces of any kind, let alone the wild facial expressions of Shirefolk). He caught himself chuckling, and though the deep throated sound was restrained and quiet enough that Evie barely discerned it over the crackling fire and the boisterous conversations of nearby tables, Thorin realized it was the first time he had heard the sound of his own laughter in a great while.

"For being reckless."

Now it was the hobbit's turn to smile, and she even discovered the demure civility to look down for a moment before returning his gaze. It should have been a strange thing for him to say, and an even stranger compliment, but Evie guessed that she knew exactly what he meant.

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The night wore on, and it would have been hard to establish whether the dwarf and the hobbit indulged more in their drink or in each other. It was all just as untoward as one might have feared, but neither seemed to work up enough propriety to care. They spoke of many things as the hour grew late and the fire died down, of their families and their histories and even, for a few moments, of their futures.

Thorin told her the story of the years since they had last seen each other- of his father's disappearance; how he collected Durin's Folk together after the Battle of Azanulbizar and led them from city to city, always struggling to maintain themselves and always searching for a new home… He shared with her certain parts of himself he had sworn never to expose to another- his plans, his hopes, his fears… He did not know why he felt able to speak so freely to her. Perhaps it was her nature as a hobbit, so distinct from his fellow dwarves. He could not dare to demonstrate any of the emotions he kept locked in his heart, but he was positive they would be safeguarded by the hobbit's tiny hands. And so he told her rather more than he should have, or would have on any other occasion. Something about her captivated him; he had never met anyone like her before. Why he was so sure of her discretion and sincerity, he could not guess, but Thorin knew he could trust her. He felt it deep within him like a promise.

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Evie wrapped her arm around Thorin's as he escorted her down the cobblestone streets of Minas Tirith, darkness closing in around them despite their own happy obliviousness. It was late, and he refused to allow her to walk back unaccompanied, despite her proven capability of handling herself in the wild. _This is not the wild_, he had argued, _and a lady should not travel alone at night without an escort_. She had no rebuttal for that, and proved quite content to stroll together down the poorly lit walkways towards the inn where she had taken up a room for the night.

When they finally stood outside her temporary lodgings, the dim fire of the torch placed outside the door penetrating the darkness like a beacon, Evie turned to look over the dwarf prince one last time.

"I hope this is not our final meeting, Thorin, son of Thrain."

She wished, her arm leaving his but catching his hand as she slowly spun around to face him. She was just intoxicated enough not to think about such things, and while nothing could make Thorin abandon his honor as a gentleman and his duty as a future king, he enjoyed the way her small hand fit within his and decided the action was too innocent to be damaging. He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"I do not think it will be."

Something told him there was little doubt they would find each other again, whether in two days or two decades. The possibility made his heart rise in his broad chest, but there was nothing he could do to avoid the alarming sensation. As difficult as it was to say goodbye to his spirited, rosy cheeked hobbit, he submitted to the faith that fate would bring them back together again. He was not able to do as he would like with her, not until his obligations to the dwarves of Erebor were met and their welfare secure. Yet, for now, he could savor this last moment with her and the promise that perhaps they would cross paths once again. Thoughts of her would stay with him for a great time to come, and if that was all he had to keep him warm at night, such was his burden to bear. He bitterly lamented any feelings she may have developed for him, for she had no such restraints and was not fettered to the weighty affliction of obligation, unlike the prince. He was certain, however, that she would find another companion more suited to her, one who could offer her the secure future that he could not.

"Even though you have been wrong many times before, I do hope that on this matter you are correct."

She chided him, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. Her full, warm lips met his smooth cheekbone, right above the line of his beard. Evie felt him smile and savored the sensation, the warmth of him so close... Their future was uncertain, but the healer felt she could cherish the bliss of this moment without sacrificing it to the altars of fear and hesitation they had each built for themselves.

"Goodnight, my lady."

His voice was deep but earnest, full of unusual cheerfulness. He took her hand, which remained in his, and affectionately kissed the top of it, nodding his head in a respectful salute. She returned the farewell with a graceful nod, a smile lighting up her round face.

"Goodnight, Master Thorin… Until next we meet."

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**Author's Note: Hello lovelies! Sorry for the wait… This turned out to be quite a long chapter. I like to take my time in writing and editing, and classes just started up again, so please try and be patient with me. I'm having tons of fun with this while still trying to keep it a semi-realistic portrayal… In any case, I hope you enjoyed this latest installment! I've got lots more planned for Evie and Thorin, so expect another chapter soon… **


	6. VI: Hide and Seek

Evie rushed into the blacksmith's shop, sidling past two men who were idly browsing the establishment's steel offerings without a backward glance. She dashed towards the smith like an arrow shot straight and clean towards its target, excitement bubbling up within her like it was Mid-Year's Day in the Shire.

"Can I help you, love?"

She almost didn't hear the master blacksmith's greeting, and had to stop mid step to spin in place and acknowledge him.

"Oh- I… Pardon me, I would like to speak to Master Thorin, if he could spare a moment…"

She tried, clasping her hands behind her back to hide her anxiety. She looked like a child who had just found a brilliant new hiding place (Westfarthing was a mostly open space so such spots were hard to come by) and was itching to play hide and seek just to show it off. Burning with accomplishment and a blithe desire to share her new discovery, she could barely restrain herself enough to pretend patience with the shop owner.

"Ah, yes. His work is quite popular. Very finely crafted blades, and axes too, if that is where your interests lay."

"Yes, we are very lucky to have him here in Minas Tirith."

She conceded, too restless to explain her full purpose. Taking her opportunity, the hobbit nodded to the master blacksmith and dashed around toward the back of the shop where the smith burned just as hot as it had a day ago. Her indelible purpose led her true, and she found the dwarf prince leaning against the wall and drinking from a silver cup. His eyes were trained on the fire of the smith, his gaze lost in the darting flames as they consumed one another in their tenaciously malevolent, seductive dance.

"Thorin!"

Evie rushed forward with wind under her feet, springing to his side and placing her hand on his shoulder as he turned to look at her. They had expressed a desire to see each other again, but he had certainly not expected their reunion to come so soon. He had almost feared it, and how he would react to her after the unanticipated intimacy of the night before. Regardless, he had thought he would have more time to steel himself against her before he was once again confronted by her intoxicating, infectious sentimentality. Being around her was like being taken out of himself; he forgot who he was even as he was reminded of everything which comprised his steady, resolute spirit. It was destabilizing.

"Thorin, I've found it!"

She exclaimed, her grey eyes alight with youthful energy. It made the dwarf feel suddenly very old. He was sixty eight, and most dwarves lived considerably longer than that, even up to three hundred years of age (war, sickness, or wickedness notwithstanding), but in this moment, as he looked down at Evangeline with her cheerful grin and her golden curls, he felt very old indeed. He had seen too much of the world, travelled for too long. Her enthusiasm reminded him of his own lack of fervor. He lived each day in a stifling smog of brutal self-reliance and refused to come out of it, even for a chance at clean, fresh air- it was his penance for surviving the Desolation of Smaug and the Battle of Azanulbizar yet having so little to show for it. The would-be king worked tirelessly towards a better future for his people, but the road was long and difficult and full of treacherous pitfalls. The dwarves were not accepted in every part of Middle Earth, and keeping any large group together was impossible without a stable home, a place to call their own… And so they struggled, on and on and to what Thorin couldn't begin to guess. To reclaiming Erebor, perhaps, but the portents were against such a thing, and the dwarf prince felt in his bones that while the time would come, it was not now.

Yet those painful, destructive thoughts, the ones which gnawed at his conscience and robbed him of sleep, all fell away as her hands dropped and clung to his in the billowing heat of the blacksmith shop. He snapped back to the present moment, his piercing blue eyes falling to gaze down at their entwined hands like a crux. Just as they had the night before, the hobbit's dainty hands felt so small, so impossibly delicate in his iron grasp. An inexplicable fear rose in him that despite his intentions, their association would extinguish her vibrant youth; that he would take that invaluable, fragile joy away from her if he didn't turn away immediately. Even if she did claim to be an adventurer, her place was in the Shire- somewhere green and warm and full of comfort. He did not want her mixed up in the grim fate of his people, despite her natural inclination and the great service she had already performed for them. The deeper she sunk into their world, into the cold depths of the mountain, the more of herself must be lost. He was sure of it, and the idea brought him to despair.

Evie saw the way he was looking at their hands and immediately realized her mistake. She had grown too comfortable, thought too much of their conversation the night previous- her words died upon her lips and her hands slipped out of his as if they had never been there. She folded them tightly against her waistline, her left hand clamping down around her other thumb and forefinger like a vice. How could she have been so wantonly foolish? Consumed by imprudent eagerness, she hadn't realized how recklessly presumptuous she had become. The very fact that she had hurried here so hastily; carelessly dashed in to tell him her brilliant idea, her solution to all his problems and the salvation of his people… The hobbit groaned inwardly, suddenly disgusted by herself and her audacious folly.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

There she was again, stammering. It wasn't like a hobbit to be so daring- they were simple folk who lived modest lives and didn't barge into the paths of others and expect to be welcomed as a savior. If her mother could see her now, rushing into things and claiming to know what was best for others… Evangeline had taken her father's obsession with helping strangers a step too far; it wasn't for her to suggest or decide, and she had no cause sticking her nose in other people's business without invitation. And certainly not those the likes of Thorin Oakenshield.

"What did you say of Blue Mountains?"

Thorin felt like he was stepping out of a dream. He had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized she had been speaking to him, let alone what she had been saying. Yet he had gathered that name from her words despite the haze of his reverie.

"No matter," she dismissed it clumsily, turning aside. "It was wrong of me to even suggest-"

"Evangeline." She straightened, the harshness of his voice stunning the healer out of her self-destructive embarrassment. There was a tight knot in her chest which made it harder and harder for her to breathe, and she fought it with each shallow inhalation.

"Tell me of the Blue Mountains."

Evie turned slowly, her instinctive alarm rendering her incapable of looking into his eyes. She played the part of the reluctant child, refusing to reach out for fear of getting her hand roughly slapped aside. One word from him could hurt her more than a blow from a mountain troll, and she loathed herself and him for that reality. Why she continued to see him, to put herself in these situations where he could make her feel even smaller than her already diminutive four foot height, she couldn't understand. And now he was urging her to share her imprudent news, and up was beginning to look like down again. Evie didn't know if she could bear it much longer.

"The Blue Mountains are close to the Shire... None are as large or as grand as Erebor and I know not what can be mined from them, but… They could be a home. At least a temporary one… Few creatures venture to them- it is a peaceful space… I shouldn't have come here; it was foolish of me to-"

Evie went silent as she felt him take her hand in his, but this time with an explicit sort of intimacy rather than the casual blunder of her earlier enthusiasm. This was an act of purpose, and it made her breath catch in her throat. Evangeline's startled grey eyes met his searching blue ones and she gave up all hope of their affairs making sense again. The hobbit relinquished her designs of understanding him or the life he led, of guessing how he would react to her or what he would do… It was a hopeless cause, and she felt helpless under his gaze. Thorin Oakenshield proved again and again he was far more unpredictable than she thought, and the hobbit might as well accept the fact that she would never know him with enough familiarity to comprehend his actions.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, however, the pair inched closer to one another in the scorching, overpowering heat of the smith. Evie felt flushed, and she mentally tried to blame it on the blazing warmth of the fire nearby and not the dangerous reality that the dwarf's face was only inches from hers. He was agonizingly handsome- her eyes lingered on the perfect shape of his long, pointed nose, the gentle, stark line of his jaw, the inviting curve of his lips. Their closeness was intoxicating, almost uncomfortably so. She didn't want this, to be so close, to have such possibility only inches away, even though it felt like miles.

"It was good of you."

He whispered, his voice rumbling in his throat. She thought she could drown herself in the sound, in that rich, coarse tenor, if the overwhelming heat didn't claim her first. Had she been less courageous or if she had proven less of a Took, she might have fainted. But Evie was no such hobbit, and she clung to her senses like a lifeline even as her eyelashes fluttered and her breath broke as it left her lips.

"What is your meaning?"

She begged, and he answered more simply than how she had meant it.

"It was good of you… Not foolish."

The last word hung between them like a warning, but neither proved wary enough to notice. Evie felt her muscles tense as the space between them diminished alongside the slow, deliberate passage of time. Each heartbeat filled her chest like the heavy roll of a drum, filling her body with fear and anticipation. Succumb to whatever force it was that relentlessly drew them together, Evie reached out to place her hand on his face. Her fingertips floated ever so gently across his smooth cheek, then the thick, wiry hair of his beard... He bore the marks of his trade- his skin was warm from the fire and he was decorated with dirt and sweat, but Evangeline was of no delicate sensibility and she was intrigued rather than repulsed by it. Thorin closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her hand on his face. She felt him instinctively lean into her touch, and the thrill of the sensation made her heart skip a beat. She had wondered, when out on her wanderings and looking aimlessly up at the velvety sky or in quiet moments by the fire of a tavern, if she would ever see him again, and perhaps she had even dreamed of something like this coming to pass, but it had never been a true possibility. She had never actually thought that the closeness of that confused, thoughtless moment at Moria could ever be repeated or, more hopelessly yet, built upon.

Similar thoughts plagued Thorin's mind, and even as his skin prickled sensationally in response to her delicate, yielding caress, he knew this could not be. That he had responsibilities, duties, obligations… He had an entire people to care for, and it would be a betrayal for him to abandon them by indulging himself in the tender touch of a female. That was not the life set out before him- happiness, a family, a home… He refused to allow himself such luxuries if he could not assure them for his people.

"Evangeline.."

He whispered her name, and the despair ringing in his voice left no doubt that it was all over before it had even begun. The hobbit breathed out, relief and stinging disappointment surging through her small frame. It was as though he was begging her to stop because he didn't know if he had the strength to break away first. At least, that was what she told herself. That was what she would keep telling herself every time she looked back at this moment in somber disappointment. Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but it was obvious he could not find the right words to explain his complicated sentiments.

"I understand."

She freed him, her brow furrowing. Even so, even if she could guess at the composite pressures and obligations and notions of guilt which bound him to his characteristically stoic exterior, Evie refused to be dismissed without some small moment of grace. She leaned forward, trying not to react as she felt him stiffen against her, and placed an affectionate, expressive kiss on his bearded cheek. He relaxed, and she was brazenly slow in backing away from him. Her fingers skimmed his jawline, falling from his chin with compunction. The action could not have been more different, more tense and heavy with purpose, than her kiss of the night before.

Thorin drank in the sweet scent of her, savored the intolerable softness of her curls as they brushed his skin when she kissed him and the warmth of her for that exquisite, stolen moment when she leaned forward and placed her lips upon his cheek. He had always thought it just and right that he had been given his particular lot in life, and had submitted to the yoke of his family lineage without complaint. But in this moment, this singular, terrible, heartbreaking moment of yearning, he mourned it. He would never forsake the legacy of Thrain, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain, and yet his unyielding loyalty did not make this any easier.

"Will you let me take you there?"

She asked, half of her wanting to run as fast as she could and never look back and the other half owning up to the strange sensation of responsibility she felt- whether it was for the dwarves and her grandfather's legacy or for Thorin in particular, she was not sure she wanted to know.

"To the Blue Mountains. Tell me you will go and see them." She urged him, hoping their latest exchange had not ruined his prospect for a new future. She refused to be the cause of such a mischance. "This life of wandering must be challenging… While I doubt there is any ease to carving into the side of a mountain, at least the Blue Mountains can promise safety and a life of plenty. The surrounding area is prosperous and well-guarded…"

The hobbit offered, and Thorin gazed down at her with another one of his looks which could have meant a hundred different things, all of them adorned with a shade of longing.

"I cannot promise that you will find a home there, but I dare say you may be able to build one."

Despite all else, everything that had passed between them and now the imminent threat of what might still come to pass, Thorin could not resist the opportunity she offered him. The chance, at last, to settle somewhere and start a new life away from the infernal blacksmith shops and armories, from the men and their downward glances, their judgment and their discontent… Legacy, honor, and duty aside, Thorin Oakenshield sought the same thing everyone desired. A place to call home.

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Author's Note: Thank you once again for all your lovely comments! I really can't say how much it means to me- this is the first thing I've ever shared so it's nice to hear what you think! And great thanks for your patience- I usually take some time editing and making sure I like things before posting them and that's an important part of my writing, so I appreciate your understanding. Much love!


	7. VII: The Start of Something

Two weeks had passed, and Evangeline was quite ready to be on the road again. Gondor was a fine place, but there was only a certain amount of time any self-respecting hobbit could last in a city of men, what with everyone looking down at those shorter than them and not always kindly. In any case, she discovered herself standing at the edge of the city, waiting for her future traveling companions. Enough time had passed since the last time she saw Thorin Oakenshield that Evie was able to look back on their brief time together with some sort of clarity, as obscured as it was. Her thoughts of him were complex- her memories of how it felt to be close to him, the musky smell of his hair and the thick coarseness of his beard against her fingertips; she recalled such sensations all too vividly. But beyond that pure physicality, beyond the words they exchanged and the heart pounding notion of what she was confident must be mutual interest… When she reflected on their exchange the hobbit felt like she was gazing through an old glass window. Everything was just a little blurry- she could be sure of little except what she recognized on the inside, looking out.

And so, as anyone would be, Evie was naturally nervous to see him again. Yet when he finally arrived, flanked on either side by other dwarves, there was something calm within her which suppressed her anxiety. What was she so afraid of? If anything was to come of their relationship, which she was beginning to doubt it would (how could a dwarf prince become involved with a simple hobbit? Any decent folk in the Shire would have scoffed at the very thought- mostly out of distaste for anything so foreign as a dwarf, let alone a _prince_), then so it would be. If not… Well, if her destiny was to disentangle from his, she supposed she would have to wait until they reached the Blue Mountains to find out.

None of it seemed to matter when he smiled at her, greeting the hobbit like a close friend. She grinned and returned the gesture, feeling an intoxicating warmth spread inside her chest. She named it goodwill, although she possessed the sneaking suspicion it was something quite a bit more dangerous and powerful.

"It is good to see you again," Thorin told her, his eyes bright. She felt her own light up in response, and hoped her feelings for him were not quite so obvious as she felt they must be. Judging by the curious look on his taller companion's face, she was afraid her sentiments were all too easily revealed to the company.

"Telchar and Dwalin will be joining us for the journey to the Blue Mountains."

He explained, and each stepped forward in turn.

"Telchar, at your service."

The first introduced himself with a polite bow. He was much shorter than Thorin and had a magnificent auburn beard- it was wrapped around itself and braided in many places so that nary a stray hair could be found in the intricate pattern. She thought it very neat- surely he did not get it caught in anything as she had always assumed other dwarves with very long beards must. His brown eyes were well set in his face, peering over his large nose with a merry glimmer.

"Evangeline Took, at _your _service."

She replied, and the same greeting was automatically exchanged with Dwalin, their other new companion. He towered above the hobbit, and she was struck with a wave of sudden intimidation- for unlike Telchar there was no jolliness about this dwarf. He was tall, stocky, and looked suited to a life of war-making. Part of his head was shaved and tattoos adorned the skin there, making him appear even more the accomplished warrior. There was something about him, whether it was the two axes crossing his back, the iron spikes adorning his gloves, or the tufted fullness of his beard, which made her feel ill at ease. More than anything, however, Evie did not like the way he looked at her; as if she had already offended him somehow. It made her uncomfortable in her own skin.

"My ancestors lived in the Blue Mountains- long ago the dwarves used to prosper in those parts. There are still some who live there, but in small numbers and without any great settlements. My family has known them."

Telchar supplied, clarifying his contribution to the group. It seemed that more than one of their party had a score or two to settle with the ghosts of the past. Evie was glad to have a reason to look at Telchar rather than Dwalin, although she could feel his eyes on her even as she glanced away. The blonde nodded amiably to the shorter dwarf, and he bashfully looped his thumbs in his belt.

"When I asked Durin's Folk of their knowledge of the Blue Mountains, I was referred to Telchar," Thorin explained. "Although he has no great experience there, he was eager to join us and share what acquaintance he has of the mountains.

"Dwalin is one of my oldest and most loyal friends."

The prince added, and the tattooed dwarf made a curt, barely courteous sound in the back of his throat, making little of the compliment. He gazed down at Evie as though inspecting a restrained animal; his bushy eyebrows bordered clear blue eyes which harbored the certain kind of stare which made the hobbit's feet stick to the ground as if she had been caught in a spider's web. Thorin must have noticed her discomfort under the heat of his companion's critical examination, for he gestured for them to follow him and led the group to a small herd of ponies, all saddled up and ready to depart.

"We can leave now, if there are no objections."

Everyone looked to Evangeline, who shook her head, her eyes large and full of the slow realization of her circumstances. They were actually going to the mountains. She would be able to see the Shire, perhaps visit her mother… She had not been back for some time, and although she had thoroughly forsaken her life there in exchange for one far more dangerous and far less stable, a small part of her did miss Westfarthing. The cool breeze as it rolled across the lake at Bywater, the magnificently painted hobbit holes in Hobbiton, the daisies and the wildflowers and the immeasurable, delightful green expanse which was the prize of Tookland… She missed it, she realized now, more than she had thought. _Homesickness always seems to strike the hardest whenever you're the farthest away or the closest to returning,_ the hobbit supposed. In any case, she wouldn't mind seeing the flowers in bloom before the autumn came.

"Let's get on with it."

Dwalin agreed, mounting his pony without hesitation. Evie had learned to ride during her travels and had been given a lovely little pony by the name of Sampson by the people of Rohan. It was a gift of gratitude for helping them eradicate some wayward goblins which had been occasionally venturing down from the nearby mountain passes and preying upon any wanderers or animals who accidentally strayed into their path. She was glad to have completed her quest, and happier still to have received the pony along with a bit of coin and their great thanks. Although she was no accomplished rider, she was proficient enough, and with a well-practiced though slightly comical hop, she climbed atop Sampson and tried on a brave face to avoid the entertained expressions of the dwarves. She might be a bit shorter and she might be female, but the hobbit was determined to prove she was just as strong and single minded as any of them. Well, perhaps not so single minded, she admitted as they began to ride towards the main road leading out of Minas Tirith, immediately thinking about the savory sauce of her mother's cooked duck. She could taste it already, although they were many weeks away from their destination and the Shire would serve only as her reward for seeing the dwarves safely to the Blue Mountains. She would guide them there, the healer decided, and then leave them to agree upon a possible settlement site or to turn back and continue living in the shadow of Men. She rather hoped for the former, but after they reached the foothills of the Blue Mountains, the dwarves were on their own and whatever choices they made were theirs, not hers. While she may consider herself an adventurer, if there was one thing Evie was learning about helping others, it was that first one had to let them help themselves.

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They set up camp after a day's ride, and Evie was glad to find a place by the fire as the chill of evening hung low over the plains of Gondor. She stood, rather reluctantly, to go and fetch some supplies so she could cook dinner (Telchar had offered, but the hobbit was of a mood and preferred to keep her hands busy, so she promised him the next day's cooking chore). Rooting through their packs for the proper ingredients to make a stew, she froze when she heard heavy footsteps approaching. The blonde was almost afraid to turn and face him, for she was sure that it was him and not one of the others.

"I… have something for you."

Thorin explained, and Evie glanced over her shoulder at him in surprise, her thin eyebrows knotting together. As soon as she caught his gaze, however, her cause was lost. She abandoned all thought of food for a moment (a very great thing for a hobbit) and faced him full on. She did not know what to say, and luckily he prevented any farther discomfort by holding up a sword, fit snugly within a simple yet elegant scabbard. Her expression was surely incredulous as she looked him over, wondering if this was all some sort of mistake.

"A sword?"

"Yes…" He affirmed, uneasily. "I know you already possess a weapon of your own, but this was the last piece I crafted back at the smith… You have done much for my people, and for me, and this sword is one of the few things it is in my power to give. If you do not want it, I can certainly-"

"Of course I do!" She insisted immediately, her small mouth falling open with an indecision which stood in contest with her polite affirmation, "I just… This is far too great a gift, Thorin, I should not accept it-"

"There are many things we should not do, Evangeline Took, but it seems we are both rather accomplished at ignoring such limits of propriety."

It was the first time she had heard him talk in such a way, and it made her heart knock around in her chest like it wanted to escape her body. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and reaching tentatively out to take the sword from him. It was a good sized blade for a hobbit, and although he had not said so particularly, she guessed that he had made it especially with her in mind. It was shorter than was the custom of the dwarves, who were also small in stature but not quite as diminutive as hobbits, and who could hold considerably more weight.

Evangeline tugged the sword out of its scabbard and admired it in the dim castoff of the firelight (they were removed from the group, standing together at the side of the campsite and away from the general company). It was simple in design but appeared deadly in purpose. She slid the blade back into place and her fingers dusted over the hilt appreciatively. The hobbit squinted in the halflight, observing runes etched into the base of the elegant hilt.

"They are the dwarven runes for your name."

He offered, guessing at her question before she could voice it. He watched as her lips molded into a sweet smile and felt that small knot of hope tightening in his chest. As much as he feared it, and the consequences it could bring if nurtured, the dwarf prince was not sure he could be rid of it. If he _wanted_ to be rid of it. As painful as the sensation was, it also brought him more secret contentment than he had ever known. He had not been offered many dreams in his life- he was so wrapped up in the affairs of the dwarves, of reclaiming Erebor and making a home for his people… It was not often he thought of himself, or entertained the fantasy of a future as he would make it. Of a family, a life beyond the constant wandering they had been subjected to. Sometimes, when Evie smiled, when her clear grey eyes met his own, or when she placed her small hand in his, he caught a glimpse of it- of a future free from worry and obligation; one where he had found a new start for his people and a new life with her.

It was all far too much to seriously consider, but for once he did not arrest his innocent musings. While he could not pretend there was no harm in what they were doing, equally he could not deny his feelings for her. If she felt the same… Thorin knew what he _should_ do, but it was becoming harder and harder to break away from her. For just one moment he wanted to set down the burden of Durin's line and do something for himself; to claim some perfect, hidden piece of the world that belonged to him and which no one else had bid him to search for. All his life he had known what was expected of him- as sudden and as reeling as it was, Thorin sensed that Evangeline was his chance at something more than that, something better. Something beautiful.

"I will treasure it. Thank you, Thorin."

She told him, and she meant it.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I know this one took a while… I've been really busy this week. **** ! For those of you who are getting frustrated with the slow build, I'm sorry- I promise we're getting closer! I'm really trying to stay true to my sense of Thorin's character… I see him as a dwarf who knows what he wants (as Richard Armitage has described him) but who also has a deep sense of obligation to his people and a commitment to the legacy and sacrifice of his father and grandfather. So I think there's a lot to work with there and I don't want to miss that opportunity or betray what I see as Thorin's nature. In any case- the next few chapters should come a little quicker- they go together. Sorry for the delays- I'm in my final semester of college and writing a thesis and all that fun stuff. Much love to you all! (Sorry this note turned out a bit long… xoxo!)**


	8. VIII: The First Song

"Why don't we sing?" Evie suggested, looking around the small fire with a slightly overenthusiastic grin. If the three of them were determined to maintain such somber expressions, she felt she would rather overdo it than play along. No one replied, but simply gazed into the fire like it had personally offended the entirety of the dwarven race. Evangeline couldn't help but be amused by their grim faces- they had no cause for them save that the night was cold and the journey ahead of them long. Telchar seemed in good enough spirits, but he claimed not to be of the singing sort.

"Come now," she pressed, shifting in her seat and inching closer to the fire. Songs were always best when sung around a fire, or at least hers were. Shire songs were meant for the light, be it from the sun or another source; although sometimes the song itself was the only source of cheer to be found. Those were the most important songs, or so she thought. "We are still close enough to Gondor that there is no danger in it. I have recently assisted in clearing these planes myself."

Her boast received no applause, although Thorin finally defended his silence and met her warm gaze over the dancing flames wavering between them.

"I know of no song which suits the occasion."

He had not sung in so very long, it was hard to remember any at all.

"Your people have no travelling songs?"

She insisted, and he offered no reply. The hobbit felt something pass between them nonetheless, and found she could not argue with the prince.

"We prefer to keep quiet when at camp, to avoid unwelcome visitors."

Dwalin announced, his deep voice cutting through the crackling flames and dampening even Evie's resolutely jubilant mood. She supposed he was referring to any other wanderers as well as disparaging her earlier comment about the safety of the planes, and she tried not to take it to heart. He seemed of a hard sort, and there was little one could do in the face of such disparagement but hope that in time their relations would improve. Perhaps he simply did not know her well enough yet.

"Most dwarf songs are about gold and the discovery of it, or of the great halls of the kings."

Telchar supplied, once again easing the conversation back into a more comfortable lull. Evie was grateful to Thorin for bringing him along- not only did Telchar seem to be more familiar with the Blue Mountains and their heritage than any of the others, perhaps even the hobbit who lived so close to them, but he was a soothing relief to Dwalin's stoic temperament and Thorin's single-minded quietude.

"I'll start… How about something cheerful?"

She suggested, and Thorin nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up in the slightest of ways at her boundless desire for merriment. Dwalin was silent; he was usually one for song but tonight he was of a mood. He harbored grave reservations about this hobbit and where she was leading them- and not just to the Blue Mountains. The warrior's trust had to be earned, and while Thorin seemed to have given his confidence all too quickly to the youthful blonde, Dwalin was not so easily won over. In fact, because of his friend's inexplicable intimacy with Evie he felt even more disinclined to favor her. He wanted what was best for his lifelong companion, and there was danger in a future with the likes of the hobbit.

"This is a good song for waiting… And I suppose that is what we are occupied in doing. Waiting for the sun to come up."

She mused, extending her hands before the fire to warm them, and then beginning her song.

"A cheer in your heart  
and a hearth with a fire,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away_;_  
_Peace in your soul  
all the love you require,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away._

Though we will grow old  
and our bodies will tire,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away;  
_Still we will live on  
with our hopes and desires,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away._

It is through our love  
that we will be remembered,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away;  
_Known for our joy and  
easy in our tempers,  
_Whiling, whiling the hours away._

We will live on – forever and a day."

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The next day passed uneventfully, in much the same way the first had. They rode forward mostly in silence, save for the occasional comment about the weather or the unknown possibilities of the Blue Mountains. Telchar enjoyed talk of that nature; he was by far the most confident about their endeavor to find a more permanent home for Durin's Folk. Thorin was the least enthusiastic, and Evie guessed it was because of his fear that they would not find a suitable place to live in Eriador. She had started to worry as well- what if she had suggested they go to the Blue Mountains only to discover that there were others already living there, or that such a residence was not proper for the dwarves? What if she led them all this way, journeyed for so long, and to no result? That was a disappointment they had committed to facing when they left Gondor, but Evangeline had cause to fear it most of all. She was the reason they had left, and she could be the reason they were forced to return to the city of men, with no promising news for their people.

And yet, worries and fears aside, the quartet of ponies marched on.

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There was no singing at the campfire that evening, and Evie surrendered to tucking in early and letting her concerns fall prey to the comforting lull of dreamless sleep. She wrapped her blanket tight around herself, staving off the chilly night air and bundling her small frame up into a comfortable sort of nest. She sighed, closing her eyes and searching for slumber.

It did not come as easily as she had expected. Telchar snored loudly from where he slept a few feet away, curled up against a large rock as though it were a bedfellow. He snored much as Evie would have imagined a dwarf to snore- he expelled a hardy, rumbling, nearly constant noise which sounded more like a force of nature than a sentient sound. She screwed up her nose, turning over and trying to ignore the vexing distraction. She liked it quiet when she slept, and while she could only get so frustrated with her companion for his natural noisiness, it was interfering with her attempt to earn some peaceable rest.

Evie's sharp ears were able to catch another noise over the din of Telchar's incessant snoring, however, and she was offered an enthralling distraction from sleep. It was Dwalin's voice, just as booming as ever, although it was clear he was making a doomed attempt to be soft spoken.

"Thorin."

He called out the other dwarf's name. Thorin was on watch, and even though Evie was facing the opposite direction, she could safely assume that Dwalin had moved to stand beside his companion.

"Speak your mind."

Thorin offered, and the hobbit surmised by the tone of his voice that there was something about Dwalin's appearance which suggested he had a particular reason for approaching the prince and this was not simply a friendly conversation. Evie felt her body tense under her blanket- although she must have appeared asleep to them, she still felt that any movement she made would reveal her eavesdropping. She hadn't meant to do such a thing, to invade the privacy of the two friends, and yet she could not simply plug her ears and there was no possibility of turning and asking them to take their conversation somewhere more private… Hobbits naturally possessed splendid hearing, although it was often employed only in catching the latest gossip over their flowerbeds or garden walls. Evie felt like old Margorie Took, who could hear hobbits three holes away if they were talking about something secret. She was a little ashamed, but the indignity wore off just as soon as she realized what it was they were talking about, and paralyzing intrigue replaced the former feeling.

"You gave her a sword."

It seemed a simple enough statement, but Evie guessed there was much more to it than she could imagine. She was unacquainted with the customs of dwarves, but there was a severity to Dwalin's gruff voice which expressed all too clearly that the gift had been an impressive gesture.

"What of it?"

Came Thorin's tetchy reply, and Evangeline felt her heart stir in her chest. _They were talking about her_.

"You have… _affection_ for the hobbit?"

It was hard for the blonde to decipher the tone of his voice- the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins combined with her lack of familiarity with the surly dwarf made it hard for her to guess at his meaning, but she surmised that his words carried both fear and derision. Her throbbing heart jumped into her throat, mercilessly pounding on her vocal chords like a war drum and making it hard for the frantic hobbit to breathe. _Would he admit to such a thing, even if he did?_

"You have always been a true friend to me, Dwalin, but this is no business of yours."

Evie was squeezing her fists together so tightly her nails cut into the palms of her hands. This was only augmented by her need to bite down on the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from making a telling sound. Fear and exhilarating interest held her stuck to the spot, imitating a perilously tremulous statue. Thorin's statement held such grave finality; Evie was shocked to hear Dwalin's voice once more.

"You know I will follow you, wherever you go. Yet there are others who might not…"

It was not a threat, but a warning, and it gave voice to all of Evangeline's fears. This was the truth she understood, the one which kept them apart. It was not only finding a home or reclaiming Erebor which separated them, but the very nature of her race. She had known it all along, and yet it still stung to hear such tragic veracities cast into speech.

"They will follow me or they will go to another clan. They cannot choose their king."

Thorin's voice grated, his words harsh and stale even after they left his mouth. He despised himself for daring to speak them, yet he could not betray the truth he now realized.

"Their king may choose his bride."

Dwalin countered, his words clashing like steel against his friend's defenses.

"Yet you would select mine for me?"

The prince retorted, bitterness rising in each syllable. Evie had never heard him talk like that before, so certain and so severe, and definitely not to Dwalin. The hobbit's eyes were wide and eager as she strained to hear any more, but there was none. She was blind to whatever happened next, but Evangeline imagined Dwalin conceding defeat and returning to his sleeping space, for she heard a rustle in that direction.

Thorin Oakenshield let out a heavy sigh, his uneasy gaze falling on the troublesome hobbit, her curly golden hair flowing like treasure over the top of her blanket. Evie listened to the reigning silence, wondering what Thorin was thinking now and replaying the painful yet recklessly hopeful conversation in her mind as sleep eluded her longer still. She felt something burning in her gentle heart and realized it was the consciousness of her deep, sensible fear being overtaken by a chaotic, blissful hope which hijacked her rationality and unapologetically challenged all odds.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your comments and support! It really means a lot to me, and I love getting your feedback. The plot will be picking up a bit in the next couple chapters- I'm excited to share it with you! ;) **


	9. IX: Dreams

Each day proved heavier than the last. It was becoming difficult for the hobbit to bear the weight of the things which passed unsaid between her and Thorin, especially after overhearing that pilfered conversation never meant for her ears. She struggled with the sentiments raging within her- some days she was so confident, so sure he cared for her that the confession of her own feelings seemed all too eager to trip off her tongue, heedless of the consequences, and other days she felt oppressed under the reasons and rationalities, the reality of her life and his and the impossibility of them having a future together.

"_Their king may choose his bride."_

Still, Dwalin's words echoed in her mind. Thorin had affirmed in no uncertain terms that he was free to dictate his own personal future and would allow no one else to do so for him, but whether or not the future he planned was with Evangeline was less clear. There was something between them, surely, but she tried not to permit herself the joy of knowing his sentiments until he had explicitly shared them with her. And so they journeyed on, riding together day after day, sleeping near one another night after night, and the days and nights began to tangle together into one seamless stretch with little to distinguish one from the other. Her life was a canvas being painted upon, yet all the colors had begun to blend into one another in a torrid confusion of meaning and purpose. She could not explain it or even understand it, but as the planes of Gondor morphed into the mountain passes, everything seemed to blur together. And yet a few memories stayed clear despite the haze. Evie did her best not to let the stolen conversation affect her, but she could not deny herself those silent, private moments in the evening when she was on watch and her eyes would fall on the dwarf's sleeping figure. As troubled as he sometimes seemed in his waking moments, Thorin Oakenshield slept quietly, as if his burden had been lifted for at least those simple hours when he dreamed of a life so different from his own, liberated from the responsibilities of reality. She wondered what it was he dreamed of, and if his fantasies mirrored her own.

.

Evie may not have noticed the change, but Thorin felt the gentle, medial effect of the journey slowly rousing something inside him. It was nothing notable, nothing which stood out among their day to day interactions or ordinary conversations, but he sensed that things were shifting between them. It had all started that night at the tavern, or perhaps it had truly begun back at Moria, but whatever it was that appeared intent on developing between them was running its course. It had been born as a mutual interest, an attraction. Perhaps because she was so different from anyone else he had ever known; a hobbit- fiercely loyal, courageous of heart, caring, but intrepid… The better Thorin got to know her, the more she challenged him to think differently, to act differently… Evangeline had audaciously set him on edge so many times before, but as they continued to travel together, the dwarf felt more and more comfortable around her. Their relationship had grown into something easy, and although they still had moments of emotional clumsiness, they fumbled through them and never irrevocably. Thorin felt that he knew her well, now… He had learned how she preferred her soup (with a little more flavor than the dwarves would settle for); he had grown to recognize the lovely, bell like sound of her voice as she hummed under her breath when they were moving during the day; he memorized the faces she made when she was sad or angry or disappointed or, best of all, contented. There was a special look which sometimes graced her fair features, and it was often the last thing he thought of when he fell asleep at night. Her grey eyes would light up brighter than the very stars themselves, her cheeks would flush the fairest shade of pink, and her perfect lips would tug up at the corners- it wasn't a full smile but just the hint of one. It was the face she made when he spoke to her on certain subjects, and he had begun to notice that sometimes she adopted it when they were riding and her hand slipped down to rest on the hilt of the sword he had given her. It stirred him to see it and to know that it was for him, even if neither of them would admit it.

There was much they did not say to each other, or could not say, and he felt it growing between them even as their familiarity increased. He saw it happening, but felt powerless to stop it. He could not promise her what he wished to, he could not give her everything he wanted to. It made him feel out of control, at times, helpless to the obligation of his race. But duty throbbed in his heart just as surely as affection, and while he refused to deny either he could not sacrifice one to the other. The prince was determined to find a way to serve both, and assured himself that if he could manage such a thing, the results would favor not only himself but his people. He imagined Evangeline at his side, building up a community around them, around their family… The very thought made the Heir of Durin hold his breath like a child on the cusp of possessing an impossible dream.

She had talked of healing, once. A long time ago. While his wounds from the Battle of Azanulbizar had mended years ago, the true recovery of Durin's Folk was still ongoing. Who better than a healer to continue the work?

.

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"Will you tell me about it? If it's too painful, of course I-"

Evie grew silent when she saw the look in Thorin's eyes. There was sadness in their blue depths, deep, unquenchable, unanswerable sadness, but also hope. It was something she ardently wanted to understand. She wished to know Thorin, son of Thrain, and to know him was to know Erebor.

They were resting near the fire, talking together as they sometimes did. Telchar was on watch and Dwalin already asleep, so the couple took advantage of the cloak of darkness around them to find a moment of intimacy they might not have dared to in the day time. Thorin was reclining, leaning back on his pack so that he was half sitting, half lying down. Evie was sprawled out next to him, lying on her side and looking up at him, her blanket wrapped around her. Nimble fingers worried the edge of the object, tugging at loose strands of the stitching, dismayed that she may have crossed some unexamined line with her question.

"It was beautiful."

He began, and the desperate longing dripping from every syllable made her crumble. They had spoken of it before, of the Desolation of Smaug and the fatal consequences of that day… But never of Erebor as it was. Never of that great stronghold of the dwarves as her grandfather had described it, as it had once been. In greatness, not in ruin. And yet incurable loss hung over every memory like a shadow. The past was unbiddable, and as much as Thorin wished he could recall the gleaming halls of his former home without the taint of Smaug's vehement attack, every thought was touched by dragon smoke and the raging flames which had claimed so many lives and had brought his childhood to ruin.

The prince sighed, looking down at the hobbit and sparing himself for an instant, as fleeting as it was. Her gaze was directed down at her hands where they picked nervously at the fringe of her blanket, and he knew she would not look up at him until he began to speak again. She felt his discomfort, but also his desire to share with her that deep part of himself he admitted to no one, and she recognized how fragile and precious this opportunity was. He knew her well enough to assume she would not meet his eyes, and so his gaze was unchallenged as it swept over the gentle slope of her cheeks, the swell of her chin and the tantalizing plumpness of her lips. Her dark eyelashes fluttered against her creamy skin as she tried to distract herself, and he watched the delightful wrinkles forming at the top of her button nose as she struggled against her own consternation, her regret for asking him to divulge such a personal memory. He enjoyed her trepidation, her caring. It was why he felt he could share such things with her- he knew she would guard them as assiduously as he did, and appreciate them all the more for her own connections to the mountain. He took a deep breath, and her clear grey gaze met his again.

"There were seams of gold that looked like they could go on forever, laced with all manner of precious stones. The treasure room overflowed with riches, far more than any reasonable imagining… Gold piled high under the vaulted ceiling, endlessly..."

He paused, and Evie waited patiently for him to continue, her eyes tracing the deep lines of his face as he tried to describe his old home. "I was very young when Erebor was taken... Truthfully, I barely remember it. I've tried to keep the image of it fresh in my mind, to recall just how the Great Hall looked or the brilliance of the Arkenstone…" He trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

"The Arkenstone. My grandfather spoke of it in his letter. He sent this necklace because he could describe its beauty no other way."

She explained, tugging the silver chain out from under her dress and investigating the small opal it carried. Thorin's eyes were dark as he stared down at it.

"He was right to do so. But even this, as lovely as it is, cannot begin to compare to the Arkenstone. My grandfather accepted it as a token of his right to rule as King Under the Mountain… There were so many colors, so many dazzling shades… It was breathtaking in its beauty. The stone, like most lost, precious things, stands indescribable."

He concluded with a heavy sigh, his gaze far away. Evie ran her fingers over the smooth convex of her opal, trying to imagine what the great gem must have looked like.

"Well, I suppose you'll have to show me some day." She smiled at his puzzled look, although the way his eyes lit up with pain and longing made her heart pound with sympathy.

"When you return to Erebor."

She clarified, trying to be encouraging. She knew it could harm as much as help, but she guessed that Thorin needed a little more hope in his life. He hadn't seemed to have much cause for it lately, and if she could help him win that back, at least, perhaps circumstances might well improve for the dwarves. What she didn't realize was that he was the one creating a change in her. She had never possessed any reason to look toward the future- her life had always been about serving others and exploring and moving from place to place. It was only the cause of the dwarves which gave her purpose, which made her consider the value of a home and a family and a life of security, which made her miss her mother and her snug little hobbit hole. Evie was so confident in her campaigns to assist others that she often did not let them aid her in return. But this, her association with the dwarves and with Thorin, this was cataclysmic, whether she realized it or not.

They were altering her life, day by day. It was not just their cause, which she found as meritable as any, but the dwarves themselves. Evie and Telchar were becoming fast friends; his blithe sense of humor cheered her when the others were being somber. She and Dwalin were making slow progress, and every time she earned a smile or a generous remark from him she celebrated it as a personal triumph. And then, of course, there was Thorin. Evie cycled through many groups of travelers on her various adventures, some of whom had become great friends, but she had never felt the companionship she was beginning to for these dwarves. She had never experienced the itching need to _belong_ as strongly as she did now. Out of place wherever she went, the hobbit had submitted herself to a life of vagrancy, of perpetual wandering in and out of other people's lives. It wasn't until now that she finally experienced the alluring pull of permanence, of endurance.

The hobbit had never questioned her lack of stability before. Her life had been about adventure, about constantly moving and never stopping for too long- but now she realized maybe she was afraid to. Her father had often been gone when she was young, and in her desire to be like him perhaps she thought she would leave with him before she could be abandoned again. Before she could be that solitary, stationary object around which the world was moving at an incredible pace but who never changed, never grew or understood. Evangeline had decided long ago that adventuring was in her blood, but she had never truly paused to think about the fact that her father had still married her mother and made a home in the Shire, and that, above all else, the real joy of his life had been his daughter, his family. Now that she was getting older she was beginning to understand him a little better. She had been afraid of being left behind, but in turn it meant she had callously deserted her mother and ignored the importance of family in her life. Fellin had felt a sense of duty, of justice, which had called him to Moria. He had risked much, but in an attempt to gain even more.

"Do you really think so?"

Thorin asked, and Evie was torn away from her personal musings. It took her a moment to remember her last words, to remember the center of everything and the start of both of their lines, their destinies. Erebor. She knew the dwarf's question was more for himself than for her, but she answered it anyway.

"I do."

She reassured him, drawing a shallow breath. The hobbit took one of his large hands in both of hers and kissed it. Her soft lips wrapped around his knuckles, and the grace and humility of the gesture was almost too much for the dwarf to bear. His dark brow furrowed, his mouth falling open although no words would come. There were none for the heady rush which swiftly struck him, for the wild need growing in his aching heart.

"It is what you are meant to do."

Thorin felt more like a king in that moment than he ever had before, but also incredibly simple- as regal as she made him feel, the only thing he wanted to do was take her up in his arms and claim those exquisite lips for himself, to feel them against his own and revel in the sensation. He knew she was kissing his hand because it was all she could do- despite their mutual affections, they had not allowed themselves any true admissions and it would be improper for them to do so, even now. And so she reached out to him in the only way she knew how- and he received her in kind. Although he could not put his hands in her flowing blonde hair or taste the sweetness of her lips or her skin, he had already trespassed against propriety by letting her into his heart. The rest, he sensed, would come as it was meant to, even if for now they must be restricted to this. Soon, if chance or destiny or sheer power of will allowed it, he would find a home for Durin's Folk and then perhaps everything would be as he was beginning to think it was meant to. Erebor was a dream which would never lose its power over him, but more and more Evangeline Took was becoming another.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I've been writing a lot lately, but most of it is for a little farther along in the plot so I apologize for the delays in posting. **

**As to how far I'm going to take this, I'm not entirely sure but I'm hoping to go all the way to the Quest for Erebor, although I won't be writing the quest itself. So this story will be mostly just new things I made up, bringing Thorin closer and closer to reclaiming his homeland and giving him a bit of backstory. [although a lot of it will most likely be vignettes as the characters age]**

**In any case, thank you for reading and I hope this installment wasn't too dull! Lots of feelings. :X **


	10. X: When the Last Light Goes Out

A scream cut through the night, cleaving into the cold air and waking the sleeping adventurers. Thorin woke with a start, and his lifetime of fighting experience served him well as his first instinct was to yank his sword out of its scabbard and slit the throat of the creature about to attack him. He stood, ignoring the corpse as it crumpled beside him in a twisted heap. Another leaped at him, brandishing a knife, and he cut it down just as easily as the first. In an instant, Dwalin was beside him, sword in hand. Together they fought off the last few assailants, who they realized when they tossed one into the dying embers of the fire while it howled in pain, were goblins.

"They must have come from deeper in the cave."

Dwalin suggested, and Thorin grunted in affirmation, slicing an arm off another snarling goblin. They had checked it out the night before, but the caverns led far into the mountain and so the travelers had not investigated the entire structure… It had been a grave mistake. One which was, fortunately, quickly remedied by the dwarves and their slashing blades. Telchar stood at back of the cave, striking down the last few of the coarse, deformed creatures as they scampered off into the darkness. It had been a small party of raiders, but they would no doubt return with greater numbers now that they had found intruders in their domain.

"Th –Thorin.."

The dwarf spun around towards the broken call, his heart stopping in his chest.

"Evie!"

He cried out, falling to her side. She was trembling, her small hands pressed against her abdomen in a frantic attempt to put pressure on her fresh wound. The dying fire cast just enough light on the blonde to make the blood spilling through her fingers shine in the darkness. It took less than an instant to realize what had happened – her sword, the one he had given her, lay discarded at her side. The blade was decorated with goblin blood, and its owner's corpse crumpled beside it – but the attacker had accomplished his task, for the hobbit was badly injured.

"No.."

Thorin whispered desperately, his hands hovering above her wound while he tried to think of what to do. His breath caught in his throat; the dwarf prince wrestled with paralyzing fear which rose within him like a plague. He had never felt anything like it before – not anger, not vengeance, just pure and unadulterated terror for what was to come, muddling his senses and making him panic. Her blood was everywhere, it was already on him, on his fingers – the sight of the thick red substance made him grow cold inside.

"Help…" She fought to speak, moving one of her hands to reach out beside her, "in my bag… A ga –green vial… And one… it's white, but mo –" she rasped, struggling to make each sound, "more milky than the oth –others…"

Her eyes slipped closed, and Thorin had to shake her to keep her awake. Searing pain spread through her belly, shooting up and down the rest of her aching figure and lighting her flesh on fire. A pleasant haziness threatened to steal her consciousness and she resisted with all her strength, trying ineffectively to keep it at bay. Searching frantically through her things, Thorin finally found a set of potions, bound together in a thick leather case. Telchar crouched at his side, ready to assist if he was needed, his face pulled into an expression of horror which made the other dwarf's heart sink in his chest. Dwalin stood back, leaving them space and guarding the group against another attack.

Thorin found what he thought must be the milky vial she had spoken of and held it up to her to see. She nodded, blinking furiously to try to keep her vision clear. Evie battled with a heaviness that consumed her body, making her limbs weigh three times as much as they should and sapping her strength more and more by the minute. The healer knew she did not have long – they would have to move quickly or she would be lost. And even then…

"On the wound…"

She mumbled, fading fast. Thorin opened the vial and tore the cloth of her dress away from the laceration's surface before placing the salve on the gash and spreading it with quivering fingers. The dwarf's hands were always steady – in battle, at the smith… He had never experienced the inadequacy he felt now, leaning over the dying hobbit and hoping upon Durin's life that these balms would save her.

Telchar passed him the other vial, filled with something more liquid than the last and tinted green, and Evie struggled to give them instructions.

"O –Ope…"

He guessed at her meaning and snapped the top off the vial. She extended her hand as if to take it, but he did not trust her strength and feared she might drop the precious potion. He placed it in her hand, following her movements and guiding the bottle to her mouth. Evie drank it and he let the little glass vessel fall to the stone floor with a clatter. She closed her eyes again, swallowing. Although it was clear she was trying to endure, the hobbit began to cough violently, sputtering and choking on each breath. Grim agony lined her face as she writhed, battling her failing body for control and losing.

Thorin's wide blue eyes searched her face for signs of improvement – this must work; it was their only hope… Evangeline's half lidded gaze met his and her lips tugged up at the edges, belittling his concern even as she hissed in pain. Thorin pulled her into his arms, holding her as she tried to talk. His hand went to her face, sweeping her golden hair out of her eyes and raising her head so that it came to rest upon his shoulder. Her trembling fingers moved languidly up to brush his cheek but could not complete the motion, she was waning too quickly. The dwarf took her hand in his, kissing the top of it with anxious tenderness. He could not restrain the artless sob that echoed onto the soft skin of her hand, so clearly betraying him.

"Evangeline.."

He whispered, his throat tight, constricting with inescapable dread.

"Eh –everything will… be all – alright..."

She gasped, trying to reassure him despite her rapidly deteriorating condition. Her breathing grew shallower with each broken inhalation, a pallor falling upon her typically rosy cheeks. A shadow hung around her like a veil, obscuring the light which used to live in her eyes even as it wrestled against death itself to remain.

"I should be the one helping _you_, not the other way around."

Her dark eyelashes fluttered as she fought to look up at him; their eyes met and she managed a weak smile, feeling the sudden weight of everything that had passed between them since that bewildering moment in Moria. Her eyes were glossy, whether from pain or sadness Thorin could not guess. The grip of her hand in his weakened, and the dwarf's tightened in response. He was not ready to let go of her, he refused to let her die… There was something shining in Evie's tired gaze that broke his heart, made him sharply regret the personal fortitude and strict sense of duty which had kept them apart. If only he had expressed his feelings to her, explained himself… He had never been stirred by a female before, and meeting Evangeline had changed his entire world – the stinging loss he had experienced in his life had only been countered by the precious hope he kept hidden, secreted away in his heart, for a future free of that loss. She was the only person who had made him believe that such a future could ever come to pass, and he knew he could share it only with her.

"Thor –in, I –"

She began, but these were words which would never be spoken. Evangeline shuddered, choking on one final unfinished breath before her body went limp in his arms.

"No… No, Evangeline –"

He could not complete his own thought as his hand released hers, moving to her face and tilting it to try and wake her up. He moved her shoulder, shifting her body in his arms as he shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that it rang in his ears. The blood roaring through his veins and the haziness clouding his vision offered the tantalizing prospect that this was all a dream, that it wasn't real. It couldn't be real… His fingers moved to her neck, checking her heartbeat… There was nothing – no movement, no response to the wild thumping of his own heart, nothing to suggest there was any chance – Thorin cried out, completely losing himself as terrible, excruciating loss consumed all conscious thought. He pressed his lips to the golden crown of her head, closing his eyes as grief overwhelmed him like an oppressive, unmediated deluge.

"I am so sorry…"

He whispered pitifully into her silky blonde hair, his voice cracking in his throat. He had not protected her; he had been right beside her when she was injured, asleep and completely oblivious. This was all his fault – her death was on his hands and he would never wash the blood off them. She was his greatest hope and his greatest fear, and now she was gone.

How long the dwarf prince knelt there, wretchedly cradling Evie's lifeless body, he had no sense of. Nothing seemed to matter for that moment, especially not the slow inevitability of time. Time would come as it would, just like fate, and if this was his, the dwarf was not sure he could bear it.

.

"Telchar."

Thorin's voice was deep in his throat, and the other dwarf jumped at the sound which broke the long silence that had hung in the cave with funereal stillness.

"Yes?"

He asked meekly, preparing for the worst. He knew exactly what Thorin's next words would be, and he only hoped the prince would not attach the punishment he had incontestably merited.

"Why were you not on watch? You should have seen the approach of the goblins and warned us of their coming… If you had been on watch as you were bound to, she would not have…"

There was something far more painful in the way the dwarf lord's words trailed off rather than admit to her death than there would have been in a physical blow. Telchar's brow knit together, feeling acutely the agony of his companion and lacking the proper words to defend himself, if there were any. His eyes shone with shame and his own sense of loss – Evie was a friend, a companion…

"No apology could possibly – I… I fell asleep.."

He stuttered, watching as Thorin's hand clenched into a fist, rage quaking in every muscle despite the weariness of his anguished mourning. His sharp blue eyes were still trained on the hobbit, however, and his fist broke in defeat as he set her down where she had been previously sleeping, realizing as he did that the stone floor of the cave was stained with her blood. She was already covered in it, as was he, so little harm could be done now. The dwarf found it hard to stand, his legs unwilling to support him and the blood rushing to his head. He held onto the cavern wall, steadying himself and closing his eyes.

"They will return in greater numbers. We must leave this place."

Dwalin spoke for the first time. Thorin Oakenshield took a deep, troubled breath, nodding and then moving to collect his things and load the ponies. They had been lucky – the goblins had only managed to steal one of the ponies in their raid – the dwarves had dispersed them before any great damage could be done. It was obvious that they could still continue as planned with only three, now that they had one less member of their company, but no one dared suggest such a thing.

Thorin collected Evie's stationary figure and laid her over the front of his pony, carefully draping her heavy limbs over the top of the saddle so that he could support her limp form once they were riding. Telchar opened his mouth to speak, but Dwalin silenced him before the mistake could be made. There was no use – Thorin was grieving and he could not be convinced to act any differently than he would.

"We will take her to the next town."

The prince said softly, his words barely audible. The other two nodded, saddling up their ponies and leading them to safety. Thorin took one last look back at the empty cave, the lump in his throat growing as his eyes focused on the pool of blood where Evie had been sleeping peacefully only an hour before. Dead goblins littered the cave floor, their bodies twisted around each other and hacked to pieces. He only wished he had killed more of them, or that he could take vengeance on their clan… But revenge would lead to nothing, and Evie would not have desired such a thing. Goblins were petty, foul creatures, and no amount of reprisal could change their habits. The dwarves had been fools to sleep in the cave, despite its seclusion. They had not checked the entire structure; they had thoughtlessly lit a fire… Thorin cursed himself for his senselessness, his mental self –flagellation only beginning. He climbed onto his pony, biting back emotion as he held onto Evangeline's unresponsive body and urged the company forward into the night.

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The darkness went on for miles with no light brimming on the horizon line. For Thorin it was an endless night, absent any light from the stars, which were obscured by a thick layer of cloud, or the moon, which was only a pale silver sliver of its whole self. He empathized with its loss – he felt like only a splinter of himself. He felt Dwalin's eyes on him as they rode forward but ignored his friend's inquisitive gaze. The future king knew he had given his companion cause for surprise, but he could not muster the vigor to attend to his questions. And if he did, what answers could he give? How could he explain his relationship with Evangeline, how could he make sense of his feelings for her? She was like no other he had ever known. How could he reconcile his duties and his desires to his friend if he could not do such a thing even to himself? Yet these reservations held little significance, now. Evie would live on only in memory, and the hope the dwarf had nurtured of a future free of the terrible bondage of his guilt seemed now only like a distant fantasy.

They followed the main road, and each steady clomp of the ponies' hooves striking the earth felt heavier than the last. The very air was somber around them, and no creature could be heard for miles around. Or perhaps he simply did not notice them. Thorin was inconsolable; the devastation of her loss pressing in on him from all sides as though he was trapped, screaming, underwater, and without any way to reach the surface. In appearance he seemed only stoic, his face drawn with heavy lines of grief, but to one who knew the dwarf, it was clear that he was irretrievably lost.

Dwalin did not know what to do – he had seen his friend distraught, oppressed by the weight of his anguish, only once before – in the aftermath of the Battle of Azanulbizar every dwarf was united in misery, and none felt it more than the grandson of Thrór. He had not worn his distress as many of the others had deigned to do, as even Dwalin and his brother Balin had… For Thorin there were no tears, no clear spectacles of sorrow. His life as a king had begun with the quiet incensement of debilitating grief, and Evangeline's death now became only the most recent wound upon a body already marred by tragedy. Dwalin wished there was something to be done for his companion, but the dwarf did not know any remedy for such a deep injury. There was nothing he could do – and their healer was dead.

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**Author's Note: I know every time I post on here I say thank you for your comments and share how important they are to me, but I really can't stress it enough. You are all such wonderful, supportive people, and you inspire me to keep writing and to take the time to make this story what I want it to be. It's hard for me to find time for myself and my writing since I'm really busy with school and work, and your comments and support encourage me to do it- I can't thank you enough for that. **** Anndddd… I hope this chapter doesn't upset anyone too much. I wanted to spice things up a little (I've been planning on doing this for some time now…). But before you get too concerned, I ask that you give me a day or two to get the next chapter up… I think it might assuage some of your worries. ;) Much love to you all!**


	11. XI: Sorrow and Starlight

Thorin sighed, regarding the few stars which punctuated the dark night sky with disparagement. They looked so cold and withdrawn, free of the complications of living and breathing and struggling like everything else in Middle Earth. He despised them for their far removed beauty, for representing everything which was cold and unobtainable in the world. He closed his eyes, blocking the condemnatory stars from his sight and trying bleakly to grasp onto something more solid. He felt his oaken shield beside him, fashioned out of the original branch he had fought with at the Battle of Azanulbizar, just as sturdy and formidable as it had been on that terrible day. His fingers tripped over the knarled knots of the wood and along the slick indentations on its uneven surface. He took great comfort in it, his shield, and felt confident fighting with it at his side. The stars might be dark and cold, twinkling from the far recesses of space with their distant mocking, but he knew he could fight on. With his sword and his shield and dozens of the finest dwarves in all of Middle Earth at his back, he knew he could face whatever challenge lay ahead of Durin's Folk. Even so, there were moments he would look up at the stars and wonder if he would ever see the smooth stone halls of Erebor again, if he would ever be able to avenge his father and his grandfather by taking back their mountain home, if his people would ever be truly content again. Forcefully banishing these malcontent thoughts from his mind, the dwarf tried to focus on his present task and abandon hesitation and worry. He was responsible for so many lives – he did not have the luxury of self-loathing or melancholy. He was a leader, and despondent thoughts would not further the cause of his people.

It was selfish to think this way, to pity himself and his fatal responsibility… And yet Thorin could not stop the flood of painful sentiments, stabbing at his mind and ringing in his ears. It was agony, to think of how only hours before everything had been so right, so hopeful and so… _possible_. For a moment, however brief and beautiful, he had truly believed in a future. He had seen it all in a vision as glorious and fleeting as springtime, a season which rarely touched the dwarves in their stone mountains – he could have married Evangeline and started a family, raised children together, reestablished Durin's Folk in a safe place… And then, once they were secure, he would go back to Erebor and face the dragon Smaug. He would earn his true inheritance, and the dwarves would return to their rightful home. He had imagined every last detail; from the moment they stepped back into the great entrance hall of the Mountain to the exploration of every room, every cavern, every seam of gold… His heart yearned for Erebor like a kite floating perilously up in the sky, prepared to fall at any moment but drawn along by the force of the wind, of his fate, his only tie to reality a fragile little string, tugging him back down to earth and the safety of solid ground. He had hoped that he could find some support in his flight; that perhaps he did not have to keep struggling alone… But that revelry was now ended, and it was time he faced the reality of his situation, of his destiny. He was meant to continue on alone, absent distraction and petty desire.

Even as he promised himself a thousand times over that this was his fate and he had no choice but to submit to it, the dwarf turned to look at Evie where she lay beside him. The travelers were resting for the night; they would reach a town soon; they were close to the edge of the mountain pass and there was sure to be civilization nearby. He would do what he could for her there and prepare her body, then take her to her mother in the Shire. He was not sure where, exactly, to go, but the dwarf prince guessed that her home would not be too hard to find, considering the reputation of the Took clan. He scoffed bitterly just thinking about it – of the halflings and their trifling judgments. How could any creatures be so simple as to disparage the bravery of a neighbor who went abroad to save others from a gruesome death, who tended the wounds of the fallen and helped raise them back up again with sympathy and compassion, who rarely thought of herself or placed her own desires before those of others… Thorin's mouth shifted into a grimace, his body convulsing as he tried to choke back a terrible sob. This was not the behavior of Durin's heir; this was not acceptable from someone in his position…

He swallowed his tears, stubbornly refusing to let the emotion bubbling up within him come to form. It had all been a dream, she had been a dream, and he was a fool to think otherwise. He knew that now. He took one of her hands in his, pressing his lips to the soft skin on the top of it as he had done so many times before. His eyes closed and he swallowed, battling the sorrow rising up within him like the tide rolling in – emotion just as ungovernable as nature itself.

Grief. It was a frequent visitor in his life, and he wondered at what point he would be rid of it. Yet he had not cried at the deaths of his grandfather and his brother or the disappearance of his father, at least not in public, and he would not deign to do so now. His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling against her smooth fingers. Her hands were cold but not as stiff as he had expected – she had been gone for over a day now.

"I'm so sorry."

Dwalin's voice was low and gravelly; Thorin could instantly recognize the sympathy in it. They had been friends his whole life, and as soothing as it was to know that the other dwarf was by his side, Thorin did not wish for his companion to see him like this, crushed and without the promise of a quick redemption from his misery.

"Thank you."

He grunted, squeezing Evie's limp hand, totally careless of how morbid it must appear that he had not left the body, or at least wrapped her up in some manner. The prince steeled himself, working up the fortitude to turn and look at his fellow warrior without worrying he would appear overly maudlin.

He moved Evangeline's lifeless arm and was about to set her hand down on her chest when he felt her finger twitch within his grasp.

Thorin's body stiffened in utter disbelief. It could not be, she was – and yet he was _sure_ that he felt it.

Evie's fingers had moved against his. He was certain.

The dwarf turned to lean over her, his hands grazing her cool cheeks and then moving to her white neck to check her pulse. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the terrible drumming of his own heart and focus on hers, begging whatever part of Durin was still left in him that he would find it…

_There._ It was quiet, like the fluttering of a bird's heart – fragile and unsteady. But it was there. Thorin let out an inexplicable sound of relief, of deep gratitude and elation and ultimate respite, calling out,

"She's alive! Dwalin!"

The other dwarf, who was still standing over him and had been watching the last few moments pass with his fierce eyes wide and uncertain, took a step forward. Disbelief was painted clearly on his stark features, but he humored his friend when Thorin wildly bid that he check her. The warrior crouched down beside the hobbit's body with a low sigh. It would not do to humor the prince, if he was beginning to unravel. He had never thought Thorin would crack under the strain of his life's sorrows and the duty which weighed so heavily on him, but perhaps he had. Dwalin pressed two fingers to the dead hobbit's neck, searching for the phantom heartbeat he knew would not be there. After a brief pause, the warrior turned to his incurable friend, shaking his head.

"Thorin, she is –"

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing with a start that Thorin had not created a fantasy for himself; that he had spoken not only of what he had sensed, but of what was true. Dwalin's thick eyebrows shot up on his face as he felt it under his calloused fingers – the delicate thumping of the hobbit's heart. His large mouth split open into a smile, his eyes lighting up as he saw the look of hope and joy on his companion's typically gloomy features. She _was _alive.

"We must get her to the next town immediately!"

Telchar added, his voice higher than usual in his excitement. The others had not realized he had heard them, and looked to him in marvelous spirits. Telchar had not slept since Evie's death – the shadows under his eyes and the awkward way he carried himself spoke to the fact. He was too plagued by guilt to take any rest, too horrified by his mistake and its ramifications to relax. Thorin certainly blamed him for Evie's death, and rightly, too, but no one judged the dwarf more harshly than himself. Relief shot through his fatigued muscles as he hung over the little group, his eyes filling with happy tears when Dwalin confirmed that their hobbit was still, somehow, alive.

"I'll take her," No one questioned Thorin's decision, although Telchar might have been lighter and therefore faster on a pony. "Unload our supplies – if we make haste we should reach the town by dawn."

Dwalin rumbled an affirmation, and Telchar was already saddling their finest pony and stripping the tack of any unnecessaries.

"We will follow and meet you."

Dwalin suggested, and Thorin agreed, embracing his old friend. He nodded to Telchar, who held the pony as Thorin hopped into the saddle and took Evie up in his arms.

"All will be well…" He whispered into her ear, wrapping an arm around her as securely as possible. "You will live."

It was not a prayer; it was a promise.

Without another word, the rider set off into the darkness and away from the rigid mountain pass. Thorin was not sure if there was a healer in the town ahead, or what they could do for Evangeline, but he was positive that she had been spared for a reason. She was alive – it could not be for nothing. The stars looked down on Thorin Oakenshield as they always did, without comment, but he observed as he raced forward into the night that they seemed to shine a little more brightly than they had before.

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**Author's Note: Wow, it was great to get all your comments on the last chapter! I've been saving that one up for a while now, and it was wonderful to read your responses to it. I hope no one was too upset, although I take it as a great compliment that it proved distressing, even a little bit… ;) **

**I apologize for the slowness of my updates- I've been really busy and a lot of times when I do sit down to write it ends up being for a future scene rather than anything contiguous. But I am working on it, and as fast as I can! This chapter is short but I figured it would be better to give you something than make you wait for the weekend. So here you are! Much love to you all! **


	12. XII: Found

The wind howled across the North-South Road, ripping through the brush and the scattered trees around them and knocking blossoms off the flowers. It was harsh and biting, relentlessly pommeling the weary riders as they trudged forward. Thorin urged the pony on, but it was of little avail against the backlash of the thrashing wind. It stung his face and whipped his hair around him so he could barely see. His eyes smarted from the assault of the elements, but he pressed on until the conditions became too harsh. The dwarf finally gave in, stumbling forward and seeking out shelter under a fortuitous rock formation. He tied the pony to the brush beside it and curled Evie up in the curve of the rock, hoping the wind would blow against it rather than on them. Battered and exhausted, the prince sat down next to the hobbit and breathed deeply. It was a relief to be out of the cruel wind, if only for a little while. As soon as it let up they would have to move again – it had been nearly two weeks since Evie was stabbed, between their stop at the inn and the traveling time… They were getting closer to the Shire, but not fast enough. Every passing moment he feared he would lose her – the very thought made him freeze inside faster than the effects of any blustering natural force might have.

"Thorin, I'm cold…"

Evie had barely spoken since they left the comfort of the inn, but now she forced out the words. They had brought little bedding, taking only what food and supplies they needed in order to lighten the load for the pony. He unrolled what they had, bringing the blankets around Evie and tucking her in beside him. As he went about this business, trying to warm her, she turned into his arms. Thorin froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. The blonde was shivering, and he couldn't resist the need lighting up her eyes as she struggled to stay awake and not to give into the sleep that was constantly waiting for her.

Thorin wrapped his arms around the petite hobbit, drawing her close and fixing the blanket around her neck so it would keep in her heat. He noticed when her gentle fingers latched onto the edge of his cloak and his heart skipped a beat. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes as she tried to arrest the uncontrollable trembling of her fragile body. She was so close to the edge, and to stumbling off it – Thorin could feel her life hanging by a thread just as palpably as he could sense the faint thumping of her heart as her body pressed against his. A sudden heat rushed through him – he had always desired such intoxicating closeness, such perfect comfort, but not like this. Not here, in the freezing cold, huddled for warmth as she clung to life, and to him… He would have given anything in that moment to heal her; he would have traded anything which was his to relinquish. Thorin sighed, his breath blossoming from his lips in a plume of crisp white smoke, although it was cast off into the wind before he could really see it. The sound of the wind moaning through the plains, creaking and cracking through the branches of the sparse trees decorating the empty land and disturbing the dust of the road, was ominous in its indelible force. Thorin felt Evie's warm breath against his neck and closed his eyes, battling with himself. He must think only of her, of what was best for her… She was weak and vulnerable and her desire to be close to him was only a reflection of that need. She was cold, and he was warm; she had been the source of the recent warmth in his life… It was time he repaid her.

"I- I'm… scared.."

She whispered, and he only heard it over the whistling wind because her mouth was right below his ear. Her breath was coming in broken gasps now, whether from fright or pain he couldn't be sure. One of his hands moved to her arm, rubbing it gently to try and bring her body temperature up.

"You have nothing to fear. We will reach the Shire soon, and your mother will heal you."

The certainty in his voice almost convinced even himself. Evie shook her head, making a small sound into the fur lining of his cloak.

"Of… Of leaving…"

She rasped, and his heart turned to stone within his chest. The deadness of it, of this abrupt reaction to his own terror, was perilously heavy inside him. The hand on her arm moved to her hair, running through her silky curls and holding her close against him.

"The only place you are going is home, Evangeline. And I will be by your side until we get there."

He told her throatily, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tried to maintain his emotional composure. She could not leave him. She could not leave him alone here surrounded by the cold, lifeless wind and the planes that stretched on in every direction without another living creature in sight. She had to stay.

Thorin turned and placed his lips at the top of her head, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fight it. You must fight and stay with me."

He whispered into the crown of her forehead, where her golden curls erupted from her pale skin. He felt her nod, as if promising she would. The wind was cold and the night was dark, but as the hobbit and the dwarf huddled together, struggling against what seemed like insurmountable odds, Thorin knew in his heart that they were both fighting, and that he would continue to fight as hard as he could for as long as he needed to, if only he could be sure that Evangeline Took would never have to leave his side.

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The arrival of Thorin, son of Thrain, with a very ailing Evangeline Took wrapped up in front of him on their pony, created one of the greatest spectacles Westfarthing had seen in some time, perhaps even since the news of Fellin's death at Moria. The first two hobbits Thorin asked for directions simply stared at him with their mouths open, and it was not until he finally came across a particularly brave looking gardener that he was pointed toward the slope which apparently housed Marigold Took's hobbit hole.

Evangeline was half asleep in his arms; she had tried to speak and direct him but it was too difficult for her. They had come a long way, and traveling had not been easy on the enfeebled hobbit. Every motion of the pony beneath her bent her body and aggravated her wound – Thorin exhausted every thought on her comfort and care and the steady prayer that she would continue breathing and her heart would keep beating. They were so close, now, and he pinned everything on the idea that her mother could somehow save her. The dwarf could feel Evie's life in his hands, could feel it slipping through his fingers with each passing hour, and as hard as he fought he did not know what to do to help her. So he did the only thing he could – he pressed on and rushed to reach their destination. He solicited a stunned looking neighbor for help off the pony (he was worried that if he dismounted without securing her, Evangeline might fall), but the hobbit did not reply and simply continued about his business, fetching the mail from a little box at the front of his home. It wasn't until Thorin's deep voice boomed over the diminutive hobbit's hydrangeas that the insolent figure finally turned to squint up at him, eyes burning in the sunlight.

He finally aided the surly dwarf, who was doing his best to stay calm. With the stranger's help, he gently slid off the pony and brought Evie down into his arms behind him. He thanked the hobbit as well as he could, refusing to share any more of his business, although it was quite obvious when he asked which hole belonged to the Took family and the neighbor caught a full look at Evie. The hobbit cried out, and suddenly he was not at all the same person who had turned up his nose at the visitors. He stumbled frantically up to the round, yellow door to the left of his own and began pounding his small fists on it. At least Thorin could commend his sense of urgency, as belated as it was.

"Mary! Mary, open up!"

The hobbit wailed, and Thorin's jaw went tight. The dwarf had tried to focus all his attention on his own hobbit and protecting her as they traveled; he had deliberately avoided thinking of what he would say to her mother. There was no valid explanation other than the simple truth, as ugly and disappointing as it would prove. His fear of facing her anger and her grief was only diminished by the now ever-present anxiety over the life of her daughter. What he did now, he did for Evangeline. At least, that was what he promised himself as he carried her up to her own front door. She turned her face into the fur lining of his coat, shielding her eyes from the sunlight and snuggling into the comfort of his embrace. He swallowed, enjoying the sensation of her clinging to him, needing him, far more than he wanted to. The prince also recognized what they would look like, standing as they were, and it made him go stiff. All the same, he would not, he _could_ not, push her away or pry her small fingers from the strap of his sword sheath which lay across his chest.

Marigold Took opened the door, looking very cross. At least, Thorin guessed it must be her – she had Evie's tousled curls and the same button nose.

"Bretan, if this is another one of your –"

She stopped speaking and the sour look on her face dissolved immediately upon seeing the dwarf with her daughter cradled in his arms.

"Evie!"

She ran to Thorin's side, her hands immediately moving to examine Evangeline's flushed face.

"What's happened?!"

She demanded, not chancing to take her eyes off her little girl.

"My name is Thorin, son of –"

"That's all very nice and you'll accept my introduction later, I'm sure, but you must tell me what has happened to my daughter."

Mary exclaimed, looking instantly ten years older as she checked the other hobbit's pulse and felt the warmth of the fever radiating off of her.

"We were attacked by goblins while crossing the mountains…"

He tried to explain, feeling himself failing even as he did. "She was stabbed."

"Well, take her inside."

The hobbit ordered curtly, her lips pursing together. The neighbor, who was now far_ too_ helpful, was pushed aside as they brought Evie into her old home. Mary thanked Bretan for his help and then all but slammed the door in his overtly curious face. Hobbits and their gossip. Evie's stories came to life here, and Thorin observed that she hadn't exaggerated an inch when it came to her people's nosiness and dislike of outsiders. The visitor had no time to appreciate the fact, however, as he carried her inside and onto the bed Marigold directed him to.

Evie moaned, taking a rasping breath as he laid her down as carefully as he could. Mary was beside him within seconds, pulling out vials of exotic looking potions and salves and all manner of herbs. Her craft was wholly unfamiliar to him, and he watched her in awe as she examined her daughter's wound and provoked a helpless yelp of discomfort. Thorin backed away, stepping to the other side of the bed so he would not be an obstruction to Mary's work.

As she was being poked and prodded, Evie turned her face away from her mother, closing her eyes and biting her lip as her body fought the pain raging through every muscle. Thorin stepped forward without thinking, wanting to help her but knowing he had already done all he could. It was up to her mother, now, and he had no place in the affair. No definite one, in any case.

Evie seemed to want him all the same, however, for her little white hand shifted from her side and reached out to him, although she was barely able to lift it off the bed. Glancing at Mary in sudden uneasiness (what would she think!?), Thorin noted that she was busy going through her medicines and decided that he owed her an explanation in any case (what harm could be done already had been) – if Evangeline wanted him by her side, then that was where he would be.

He went to the edge of the bed and took her hand, which was cold and frighteningly clammy. The dwarf drew in a deep breath, trying to keep calm as he watched Marigold run back into the other room to retrieve some new cure.

"You will be alright…" He reassured Evie, his voice gravelly. The corner of the hobbit's mouth twitched into a flickering smile, like sunlight passing through clouds for the briefest of moments. Her foggy grey eyes met his, and he despaired to see the fatigue straining them. She looked so tired, so weary… He realized unexpectedly that he felt the same way. The last few weeks had been incredibly trying – he had never experienced such a rush of potent, contrary emotions in such a short time. But they were here now, in the Shire, and it was the safest place for Evie to be. If there was a cure in all of Middle Earth for her, he hoped they would find it here. If not, he was willing to travel all the way to the Black Lands or the Sea of Rhûn and beyond to find it.

Mary paused in the doorway to give him a bewildered and almost angry look before returning to her daughter's side, and it was not lost on the prince. He knew proper decency and the avoidance of an uncomfortable conversation dictated that he should release Evie's hand, but he couldn't bear to do it. Not when he could feel her fingers wrapping weakly around his much larger ones, not when the hobbit closed her eyes and turned her face into the pillow, trying to stifle a moan of pain as her mother dressed her wound. Propriety was the last thing on his mind as he squeezed her hand, trying to offer the support he knew she needed but could not ask for.

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After Mary had finished with Evie for the time being, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and sighed softly, checking her work. The feverish girl was already falling asleep, too fatigued after her travels and the trauma of her mother's attentions. The elder hobbit turned, looking through appraising eyes at the dwarf and gesturing for him to follow her into the other room. He did as she bid him, and the pair moved into the bright, well lit kitchen. Marigold crossed her arms and unnervingly reviewed the visitor as though preparing to deliver a verdict.

"I think it is time for that introduction."

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**Author's Note: So this chapter has some extra fluff which I have absolutely no defense for. I just love them together so much and I can't help it! Hahaha It was raining and super windy last night so I felt like writing something… and voila! It got kind of cute at the end, and I just couldn't stop myself. But hopefully you enjoyed it! I've been loving your comments- I'm glad many of you are enjoying the slow unfolding of their romance… Obviously we've come pretty far, but there's still a ways to go… (Well, to Ered Luin, at least!) **


	13. XIII: The Wind and the Wounded

The wind howled across the North-South Road, ripping through the brush and the scattered trees around them and knocking blossoms off the flowers. It was harsh and biting, relentlessly pommeling the weary riders as they trudged forward. Thorin urged the pony on, but it was of little avail against the backlash of the thrashing wind. It stung his face and whipped his hair around him so he could barely see. His eyes smarted from the assault of the elements, but he pressed on until the conditions became too harsh. The dwarf finally gave in, stumbling forward and seeking out shelter under a fortuitous rock formation. He tied the pony to the brush beside it and curled Evie up in the curve of the rock, hoping the wind would blow against it rather than on them. Battered and exhausted, the prince sat down next to the hobbit and breathed deeply. It was a relief to be out of the cruel wind, if only for a little while. As soon as it let up they would have to move again- it had already been weeks since Evie was stabbed, between their stop at the inn and the traveling time… They were getting closer to the Shire, but not fast enough. Every passing moment he feared he would lose her- the very thought made him freeze inside faster than the effects of any blustering natural force might have.

"Thorin, I'm cold…"

Evie had barely spoken since they had left the comfort of the inn, but now she forced out the words. They had brought little bedding, taking only what food and supplies they needed to lighten the load for the pony. He unrolled what they had, bringing the blankets around Evie and tucking her in beside him. As he went about this business, trying to warm her, she turned into his arms. Thorin froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. The blonde was shivering, and he couldn't resist the need lighting up her eyes as she struggled to stay awake and not to give into the sleep that was constantly waiting for her.

Thorin wrapped his arms around the petite hobbit, drawing her close and fixing the blanket around her neck so it would keep in the heat. He noticed when her gentle fingers latched onto the edge of his cloak and his heart skipped a beat. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, closing her eyes as she tried to arrest the uncontrollable trembling of her fragile body. She was so close to the edge, and to stumbling off it- Thorin could feel her life hanging by a thread just as palpably as he could sense the faint thumping of her heart as her body pressed against his. A sudden heat rushed through him- he had always desired such intoxicating closeness, such perfect comfort, but not like this. Not here, in the freezing cold, huddled for warmth as she clung to life, and to him… He would have given anything in that moment to heal her; he would have traded anything which was his to relinquish. Thorin sighed, his breath blossoming from his lips in a plume of crisp white smoke, although it was cast off into the wind before he could acknowledge it. The sound of the wind moaning through the plains, creaking and cracking through the branches of the sparse trees decorating the empty land and disturbing the dust of the road, was ominous in its indelible force. Thorin felt Evie's warm breath against his neck and closed his eyes, battling with himself. He must think only of her, of what was best for her… She was weak and vulnerable and her desire to be close to him was only a reflection of that need. She was cold, and he was warm; she had been the source of the recent warmth in his life… It was time he repaid her.

"I-I'm… scared.."

She whispered, and he only heard it over the whistling wind because her mouth was right below his ear. Her breath was coming in broken gasps now, whether from fright or pain he couldn't be sure. One of his hands moved to her arm, rubbing it gently to try and bring her body temperature up.

"You have nothing to fear. We will reach the Shire soon, and your mother will heal you."

The certainty in his voice almost convinced even himself. Evie shook her head, making a small sound into the fur lining of his cloak.

"Of… Of leaving…"

She rasped, and his heart turned to stone within his chest. The deadness of it, of this abrupt reaction to his own terror, was perilously heavy inside him. The hand on her arm moved to her hair, running through her silky curls and holding her close against him.

"The only place you are going is home, Evangeline. And I will be by your side until we get there."

He told her throatily, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tried to maintain his emotional composure. She could not leave him. She could not leave him alone here surrounded by the cold, lifeless wind and the plains that stretched on in every direction without another living creature in sight. She had to stay.

Thorin turned and placed his lips at the top of her head, his breath catching in his throat.

"Fight it. You must fight and stay with me."

He whispered into the crown of her forehead, where her golden curls erupted from her pale skin. He felt her nod, as if promising she would. The wind was cold and the night was dark, but as the hobbit and the dwarf huddled together, struggling against what seemed like insurmountable odds, Thorin knew in his heart that they were both fighting, and that he would continue to fight as hard as he could for as long as he needed to, if only he could be sure that Evangeline Took would never have to leave his side.

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The arrival of Thorin, son of Thrain, with a very ailing Evangeline Took wrapped up in front of him on their pony, created one of the greatest spectacles Westfarthing had seen in some time, perhaps even since the news of Fellin's death at Moria. The first two hobbits Thorin asked for directions simply stared at him with their mouths open, and it was not until he finally came across a particularly brave looking gardener that he was pointed toward the slope which apparently housed Marigold Took's hobbit hole.

Evangeline was half asleep in his arms; she had tried to speak and direct him but it was too difficult for her. They had come a long way, and traveling had not been easy on the enfeebled hobbit. Every motion of the pony beneath her bent her body and aggravated her wound- Thorin exhausted every thought on her comfort and care and the steady prayer that she would continue breathing and her heart would keep beating. They were so close, now, and he pinned everything on the idea that her mother could somehow save her. The dwarf could feel Evie's life in his hands, could feel it slipping through his fingers with each passing hour, and as hard as he fought he did not know what to do to help her. So he did the only thing he could- he pressed on and rushed to reach their destination. He solicited a stunned looking neighbor for help off the pony (he was worried that if he dismounted without securing her, Evangeline might fall), but the hobbit did not reply and simply continued about his business, fetching the mail from a little box at the front of his home. It wasn't until Thorin's deep voice boomed over the diminutive hobbit's hydrangeas that the insolent figure finally turned to squint up at him, eyes burning in the sunlight.

He finally aided the surly dwarf, who was doing his best to stay calm. With the stranger's help, he gently slid off the pony and brought Evie down into his arms behind him. He thanked the hobbit as well as he could, refusing to share any more of his business, although it was quite obvious when he asked which hole belonged to the Took family and the neighbor caught a full look at Evie. The hobbit cried out, and suddenly he was not at all the same person who had turned up his nose at the visitors. He stumbled frantically up to the round, yellow door to the left of his own and began pounding his small fists on it. At least Thorin could commend his sense of urgency, as belated as it was.

"Mary! Mary, open up!"

The hobbit wailed, and Thorin's jaw went tight. The dwarf had tried to focus all his attention on his own hobbit, on protecting her as they traveled; he had deliberately avoided thinking of what he would say to her mother. There was no valid explanation other than the simple truth, as ugly and disappointing as it would prove. His fear of facing her anger and her grief was only diminished by the now ever-present anxiety over the life of her daughter. What he did now, he did for Evangeline. At least, that was what he promised himself as he carried her up to her own front door. She turned her face into the fur lining of his coat, shielding her eyes from the sunlight and snuggling into the comfort of his embrace. He swallowed, enjoying the sensation of her clinging to him, needing him, far more than he wanted to. The prince also recognized what they would look like, standing as they were, and it made him go stiff. All the same, he would not, he _could_ not, push her away or pry her small fingers from the strap of his sword sheath which lay across his chest.

Marigold Took opened the door, looking very cross. At least, Thorin guessed it must be her- she had Evie's tousled curls and the same button nose.

"Bretan, if this is another one of your-"

She stopped speaking and the sour look on her face dissolved immediately upon seeing the dwarf with her daughter cradled in his arms.

"Evie!"

She ran to Thorin's side, her hands immediately moving to touch Evangeline's flushed face.

"What's happened?!"

She demanded, not chancing to take her eyes off her little girl.

"My name is Thorin, son of-"

"That's all very nice and you'll accept my introduction later, I'm sure, but you must tell me what has happened to my daughter."

Mary exclaimed, looking instantly ten years older as she checked the other hobbit's pulse and felt the warmth of the fever radiating off of her.

"We were attacked by goblins while crossing the mountains…"

He tried to explain, feeling himself failing even as he did. "She was stabbed."

"Well, take her inside."

The hobbit ordered curtly, her lips pursing together. The neighbor, who was now far_ too_ helpful, was pushed aside as they brought Evie into her old home. Mary thanked Bretan for his help and then all but slammed the door in his overtly curious face. Hobbits and their gossip. Evie's stories came to life here, and he observed that she hadn't exaggerated an inch when it came to her people's nosiness and dislike of outsiders. The visitor had no time to appreciate the fact, however, as he carried her inside and onto the bed Marigold directed him to.

Evie moaned, taking a rasping breath as he laid her down as carefully as he could. Mary was beside him within seconds, pulling out vials of exotic looking potions and salves and all manner of herbs. Her craft was wholly unfamiliar to him, and he watched her in awe as she examined her daughter's wound and provoked a helpless yelp of discomfort. Thorin backed away, stepping to the other side of the bed so he would not be an obstruction to Mary's work.

As she was being poked and prodded, Evie turned her face away from her mother, closing her eyes and biting her lip as her body fought the pain raging through every muscle. Thorin stepped forward without thinking, wanting to help her but knowing he had already done all he could. It was up to her mother, now, and he had no place in the affair. No definite one, in any case.

Evie seemed to want him all the same, however, for her little white hand shifted from her side and reached out to him, although she was barely able to lift it off the bed. Glancing at Mary in sudden uneasiness (what would she think!?), Thorin noted that she was busy going through her medicines and decided that he owed her an explanation in any case (what harm could be done already had been) - if Evangeline wanted him by her side, then that was where he would be.

He went to the edge of the bed and took her hand, which was cold and frighteningly clammy. The dwarf took a deep breath, trying to keep calm as he watched Marigold run back into the other room to retrieve some other cure.

"You will be alright…" He reassured Evie, his voice gravelly. The corner of the hobbit's mouth twitched into a flickering smile, like sunlight passing through clouds for the briefest of moments. Her foggy grey eyes met his, and he despaired to see the fatigue straining them. She looked so tired, so weary… He realized unexpectedly that he felt the same way. The last few weeks had been incredibly trying- he had never experienced such a rush of potent, contrary emotions in such a short time. But they were here now, in the Shire, and it was the safest place for Evie to be. If there was a cure in all of Middle Earth for her, he hoped they would find it here. If not, he was willing to travel all the way to the Black Lands or the Sea of Rhûn and beyond to find it.

Mary paused in the doorway to give him a bewildered and almost angry look before returning to her daughter's side, and it was not lost on the prince. He knew proper decency and the avoidance of an uncomfortable conversation dictated that he should release Evie's hand, but he couldn't bear to do it. Not when he could feel her fingers wrapping around his much larger ones, not when the hobbit closed her eyes and turned her face into the pillow, trying to stifle a moan of pain as her mother dressed her wound. Propriety was the last thing on his mind as he squeezed her hand, trying to offer the support he knew she needed but could not ask for.

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After Mary had finished with Evie for the time being, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and sighed softly, looking over her work. The feverish girl was already falling asleep, too fatigued after her travels and the trauma of her mother's attentions. The elder hobbit turned, looking through appraising eyes at the dwarf and gesturing for him to follow her into the other room. He did as she bid him, and the pair moved into the bright, well lit kitchen. Marigold crossed her arms and unnervingly reviewed the visitor as though preparing to deliver a verdict.

"I think it is time for that introduction."

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**Author's Note: So this chapter has some extra fluff which I have absolutely no defense for. I just love them together so much and I can't help it! Hahaha It was raining and super windy last night so I felt like writing something… and voila! It got kind of cute at the end, and I just couldn't stop myself. But hopefully you enjoyed it! I've been loving your comments- I'm glad many of you are enjoying the slow unfolding of their romance… Obviously we've come pretty far, but there's still a ways to go… (Well, to Ered Luin, at least!) **


	14. XIV: An Important Introduction

"Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service."

Thorin introduced himself, his voice trapped in his throat. He coughed, attempting to clear it and regain the familial dignity which went with the name. Marigold took a deep breath, swallowing. He was certainly of some noble line… The name sounded dishearteningly familiar, but she could not place it. The hobbit had not actually seen a dwarf before – it was her husband who had been the traveler, who had cast his lot in with that of the dwarves of Erebor… not her. She recognized the visitor's race immediately, however – there was nothing else he could be. He held himself proudly, yet there was an air of the untellable about him and it set her mind into a frenzy of questions.

"Marigold Took, at yours... I suppose."

She couldn't stifle the last biting addition – she was in no mood to deal with dwarves. It seemed every time a dwarf was involved with the Took family, something ill was bound to befall the relationship. And Mary didn't like what she had seen of the pair – the way Evie had clung to him, looked to him for support… It was certainly troublesome. How such a thing had come to pass she was anxious to know. Her daughter wrote to her on occasion, but it was difficult to get letters from one end of Middle Earth to the other, and so their exchanges were rare. She had thought Evie would visit her after bringing her companions to the Blue Mountains… But she had certainly not expected this.

"Evangeline, she…"

Thorin could not finish the thought. Not with Mary's harsh green eyes on trained him; it was as if she was looking through him, _burning _through him with her fiery gaze. No sentiment, as sincere as it might be, could quell her apprehension. The prince understood; at least, he thought he did… He had no children of his own and had not known a father for many years, but he felt protective of his sister, and of his people… Still, he could not faithfully imagine the shielding love of a mother over her wounded daughter. It was clear that Mary was on her guard, fully prepared to do what she had to in order to protect Evie from any further injury. Just as Thorin was fighting for Evangeline, her mother was too. And she had far more of a right to than he did – there was no contest in that.

There was a pause, and the healer guessed at what it was he wanted to know.

"She's in bad shape."

Marigold warned the stranger, looking him over. As much as her family had supported Durin's Folk through their struggles, the hobbit could not help but feel bitterness towards the dwarven race. They had taken so much from her family – claimed her husband and his father, her daughter's youth and security… And now perhaps even Evangeline's very life. Of course the injury could have happened anywhere, and with any group – but it had not. Evangeline had been with the dwarves when she had been hurt, and Mary was beginning to believe that the line of Durin was a curse for her family, and that she would do best to pry her daughter away from it despite any protest. She had not been able to save her husband from the quicksand that was the dwarves and their fate, but she refused to lose her daughter too.

Even as she hardened herself against this stranger and looked up at him with a glint of steel in her green eyes, Marigold couldn't help but notice the way he carried himself, how he sat down in the chair she offered him with a heaviness that could not be spoken. His grief seemed real enough, and if it was in honor of Evie then she could dislike the visitor only so much; but even as she reevaluated this particular dwarf in light of his kind, she wondered why he was any different from the rest.

"Can you save her?"

He asked, and the hobbit's lips pursed into a frown. The dwarf's eyes widened with anxiety as he gazed helplessly up at her from where he was seated. His shoulders slumped forward and his armor dirty from his travels, she almost felt for him – coming here could not have been easy. Even as the healer sympathized, she cursed him deep within her heart. She held no fondness for him or his people, and what did she care if he felt sorry about what had happened to her little girl? Of course he should feel remorseful – he let it happen. Reasonably, she could not fully blame him (Mary was a mother like any other, but she was not wholly irrational), for it was Evie's hand which had not been quick enough to belay her attacker, but still the hobbit saw the fault fall on the leader of the company, who should act responsible for everyone under his command.

"Perhaps."

She answered tersely, taking some biscuits out of the cupboard and setting them on the table. She poured a cup of water and placed that in front of the visitor as well, and he thanked her gratefully but did not touch it. His hands were folded on the table, unmoving. The dwarf's large eyebrows knitted together, his thin lips making a hard line across his face. Mary sat down opposite him at the table, her sharp gaze still trained on the melancholy traveler as if she could figure out what kind of person he was with just a glance.

"Drink. Eat. I'll make you a full meal before you go. By the look of her wound, if she really got it crossing the Misty Mountains then you have had many a hard day's ride to get here as quickly as you did, even with a stop or two along the way."

She noted, the wrinkles on her face growing darker. Evie had inherited her mother's nose and her cascade of blonde curls, but he had never seen Evangeline adopt the toughness he discovered in Marigold's eyes. He thought of her lying alone in the other room, and already he sensed the difficulty of their inevitable separation. _Before you go_… He had not thought past arriving at the Shire. Of course Mary would want him to go; he had no place here. He would continue on to the Blue Mountains with Telchar and Dwalin, to finish their journey… Still, he had not thought before of the challenge of leaving Evie behind. He had been so focused on ensuring her survival; he had not considered what might happen after she recovered. Surely they would be parted, it only made sense… Thorin had not consulted sensibility very often over the last few weeks; it felt strange to do so now.

It was clear that Marigold Took lived a hard life, and a lonely one. Evie was the only family she had left, and Thorin had returned the young hobbit home on the cusp of death – he held no expectation of her kindness or her appreciation, although that was what she tried to give him. Perhaps compassion was another Took family trait. The dwarf looked somberly down at the cup of water, his calloused fingers rubbing against each another as he felt the hollowness ringing in his chest gape wider.

"How well do you know my daughter?"

She asked, and the tone of her voice was very different than it had been before. This was a personal question. Thorin's brow furrowed tighter, his jaw setting. He did not know how to begin, what he could tell her…

"We met at the Battle of Azanulbizar. Your husband fought bravely there, and Fellin Took was buried with as much honor as we could bestow upon him. The dead numbered so great that we were forced to burn many of the bodies instead of burying them, but my father and I made certain that Fellin was given the honor he deserved for fighting for a people he barely knew…"

He trailed off, and Marigold fought to banish the unexpected rush of emotion released by the mention of her husband's name. This dwarf, Thorin – he had been there. He had buried him. She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them again.

"You did not answer my question."

Mary saw the distress flickering in his eyes and watched the tension building in his muscles, instantly confirming what she had wondered at earlier when she had seen them together. The hobbit had been alone for many years, and perhaps that was why she had such an eye for these sorts of things. She could predict the actions of Shirefolk almost to an art, and while it sometimes meant that living in Westfarthing could get a bit dull, she preferred it to a life of daring and adventure… She had seen what such things produced; and so she resigned herself to being the one who picked up the pieces, who bandaged the wounds and made sure no one got hurt, save herself. But that was a pain she had grown accustomed to, just as she had learned to appreciate the simple workings of the Shire. Her loneliness had taught her well how to recognize the longing glimmers of love when it lit up another's face, and Mary was sure her daughter had been infected with it. One glance had told her that much. While she was unaccustomed to the nature of the dwarves and therefore could not be certain of her presumptions, she guessed that Thorin was caught by that fickle creature, Love, as surely as her daughter seemed to be.

"You care for her."

She supplied, and the dwarf finally picked up the cup of water, drinking from it in order to stave off the need for an answer for one more moment, however brief. His silence could only go on for so long, however, and eventually he was forced to reply.

"She is a traveling companion."

His eyes grew cold as he told the lie (well, it wasn't quite a lie, although it certainly was not the whole truth), his grip still hard upon the metal cup. He intended to explain more than that, to speak as plainly as he could with the hobbit, but the fierceness of her stare quieted him. The corner of Mary's mouth simpered up into a smile, and Thorin felt immediately uncomfortable under her weighty gaze.

"I see."

She noted, leaning back in her chair. The hobbit suddenly remembered where she had heard that other name before – Thrain. _Thrain, son of…_ "You said your name was Thorin, correct?"

"Yes, my lady. Thorin, son of Thrain."

"Would that be the same Thrain who was the son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain at Erebor?"

Her tone was calm and casual, but there was a biting undertone which made the dwarf stiffen uncomfortably in his seat.

"The very same."

"So that is why."

She observed aloud, standing up and getting herself a cup from the pantry. She filled it with something other than water, however, and Thorin did not ask what it was. He looked up at her inquisitively, although he did not speak.

"You care for her but you are obligated to your people, or perhaps she is below you and you are too noble to abuse her. I respect you for that, although there was a point, somewhere, when you saw this beginning, and you should have put an end to it then."

She asserted, realizing even as she said it that perhaps this was not the way to speak to a prince. But a mother knew no deference. She had already paid it with her husband's life. Thorin's heart seized in his chest and his entire body went cold. He could not recall being spoken to in such a manner before. It was not her tone which shocked him, it was her words. The truth in them was painful, deliberately so. The dwarf knew she stood correct, but he did not know how to explain that things were not as they appeared and that he had never meant for everything to unfold as it had. Even so, he was not sure he regretted anything that had happened between him and Evie, and now, with the incredible, exhilarating shock that she was alive – he had not given up on the possibility of a future for them together.

"My lady, you must understand." Thorin tried to explain, standing and suddenly appearing much more regal than he had a moment ago. He stood tall and proud, as was common for his race, and a kingly grace fell upon him as he defended his honor and that of the only female he had ever considered taking as a bride.

"I never intended for my relationship with your daughter to develop any farther than that of friendship, and it has yet to do so," he clarified, his blue eyes bright and serious. "I am the leader of my people, and I am duty bound to find them a permanent place to live. Evangeline has suggested that we travel to the Blue Mountains, and if a suitable residence can be found there, we shall make a home for ourselves. If this can be done –"

"You will be freed of your responsibility?"

Marigold questioned, just old and resentful enough to cut in as she did. The hobbit would protect her daughter as well as she could, and since the poor girl was already physically injured, it was her mother's duty to spare her any emotional pain. Thorin swallowed, the muscles in his face twitching uncomfortably.

"My obligation to the dwarves will never end – it is my family's legacy to protect Durin's Folk. But if we can make a living for ourselves in the mountains, to start families and build new lives…"

He took a deep breath, looking away from the condemnatory hobbit, whose gaze was boring into him. He had never had to defend himself in such a way, never needed to. He rarely owed anyone an explanation, but Evie's mother… He felt that he was in more debt to this hobbit than he could ever repay, as indirect as their relationship was. Especially if somehow he and Evangeline could create a future together… The prince narrowed his eyes, searching for the correct words to explain something he had never put voice to before.

"There was a time, right after the attack, when we thought we had lost her."

Even Marigold was not so callous as to shut out these words, ones spoken so quietly they were almost at a whisper. Thorin's voice rumbled deep in his throat, like each phrase was immensely difficult to say. It was a confession, and everything about the way his expression modeled the agony and longing of lost hope and the deep understanding of sorrow kept her hanging on his every word, her vindictive armor falling away piece by piece as he made clear just how he felt about her daughter.

"I have seen horrors in my life. I have lost my entire family, save my sister, to war and persecution. You know the story of the Fall of Erebor, and I may guess that you have heard how the exiled dwarves have wandered since that day. Our cause was enough to stir your husband to action, and while I do not claim to have known him, I will call him a brave and noble hobbit. My whole life has been devoted to doing right by Durin's Folk, without a thought to myself or my own happiness."

He paused, his hand clenching into a fist at his side, as if the dwarf needed to display his extreme sentiment in some physical manner. Thorin closed his eyes, his expression softening as he thought for a moment, remembered, and then opened his eyes again.

"I had never considered marriage, never thought of having a family of my own or finding companionship, before I met Evangeline. When we crossed paths in Gondor, she changed something within me. There was not one moment in which I knew it, there were many. And at each of them I could not bear to deny what I felt. I still cannot, and I refuse to. I do not know what the future holds for us – it would be a lie to say otherwise, but I must know you understand that for me to see your daughter in pain is the greatest of agonies. I wish never to see her hurt again. I know you are trying to protect her from me and perhaps that is wise…" He took another breath, fortifying himself. "I am the Heir to the Line of Durin, and my people will always come first."

It stung him to say it, but it was true. It would be better for Evangeline to find someone else, someone more capable of devoting his entire life to her, to making her first and only in his thoughts. Thorin wished he could have such a luxury of feeling, but he understood his place in the world and accepted it. He made a hard noise in the back of his throat, casting away his billowing sentiment and looking back toward the hobbit.

Marigold Took wore an expression of confusion and melancholy. She understood him and his intentions for her daughter, but how could she approve of such a thing?! What if the dwarves could not make a home in the Blue Mountains? What if he never felt comfortable enough to marry, to think of himself and of another, even for a moment? There were too many possibilities, and each one frightened the hobbit. She could see the good in Thorin and respected him for it, but she also knew the cruel reality of his situation and what it most likely meant for Evangeline. Marigold wanted a grand life for her daughter, just as Evie had always claimed she desired, but this was perhaps too fantastic. Life was not a storybook, and often it did not have a happy ending. She could imagine her daughter as a queen, constantly striving for the happiness of her people and beloved by them, but with the dwarves?! It was a fairytale, and Mary of all people knew those did not exist. She had known too much grief to contend with the idea, and she sensed that Thorin had too.

"So what do you do now? Move on to see the mountains, and make your decision there?"

She asked, her voice a little fainter than she had anticipated.

"I know it is not the answer you wish to hear, or the one Evangeline deserves."

He conceded, bowing his head in defeat. Marigold scrunched up her nose, and for a moment she took on the countenance of her daughter.

"As you can imagine I do not like it. No mother could. And yet…" She sighed, stepping towards the imposing dwarf, who stood well over a foot taller than her. "If she will still have you, that is her decision."

Thorin reacted strangely to her words, his fervent eyes adopting an almost youthful questioning.

"Do you think she would have me?"

It was so eager, so unexpectedly innocent, that Mary almost laughed. She restricted herself to a smile, and patted the prince on the hand maternally, some of her anxiety melting away at his obvious regard for her Evie.

"I have never seen her so smitten."

She replied dolefully, squeezing the dwarf's large hand. "And if you care for her in return, you will keep your distance until you know whether or not you are able to give yourself to her. Be fair and honest, and then you are on your way already."

She advised, and Thorin tried a smile.

"But I expect you to come back to her."

She added sternly, and the dwarf prince nodded.

"I will."

He said, and he meant it.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for being patient and waiting a bit for this one- I've had a very long, rough week with thesis deadlines, job interviews, and midterms, so it's been difficult to find an opportunity to sit down and spend some quality time on this, and I feel like Thorin and Evie deserve no less. But here it is! I'm interested to see what you think of Evie's mother- now we can see where some of that spunk comes from. **** Much love to you all- your thoughts and support really help me get through all this craziness and keep going with this story, which is such a lovely part of my life. **** !**


	15. XV: The Promise

She ached. Everything ached. Evie wasn't sure what hurt worse, the stinging of her infected wound or the uncomfortable throbbing of her heart. Thorin stood over her, and she was worried to discover the cause of the anxiety lining his face.

"Your mother insists that I go…"

Her visitor lamented, and the tortured look in his eyes told her it wasn't an excuse.

"It is better that you do," Evangeline conceded, taking a steadying breath, "if the mountains prove worthy of your people, you have much work ahead of you."

Thorin nodded, his jaw tight. The dwarf's staggeringly blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked down at her, as if considering his next entreaty.

"What will you do?"

She did not reply for a moment, and for the prince it felt like a century.

"Well, it seems I will not be going anywhere in the near future," she sighed, looking down at her failing body, her legs making shapes under the blankets as she pushed herself up a little higher in bed. "But after I heal… _if_ I heal –" (the very prospect made Thorin's body go stiff and caused the prince to forget the many reasons her very adamant mother had forced upon him to convince him to leave) "then perhaps I will travel again."

It was the only thing she knew how to do, after all. While lately she had been wanting more and more to settle down, at least for a brief period, she also knew she would like to stretch her legs some if she ever escaped her sickbed. And as much as Evie wanted to simply_ stay_ for a time… Remaining in the Shire with its merciless simplicity seemed like quitting her own destiny, somehow. Like relinquishing some indefinite future. After everything she had gone through, the hobbit refused to end up right back where she started. Not without some grand change or revelation. A scar wasn't enough to stop her from discovering whatever it was she had set out to find in the first place.

"So you wish to continue your wanderings?"

Thorin asked her, and the pain in his voice was palpable. Evie's stomach turned at his tone, making her feel even feebler than before.

"Unless I had somewhere in particular to go..."

She supplied. The hobbit clearly did not mean the Shire.

Thorin's breath caught in his throat, and Evie could almost feel the things they had always left unsaid filling the thick air between them. She forced her eyes to meet his, her stormy grey confronting his striking sapphire and forcing out an answer.

"What about the Blue Mountains?"

He finally asked, his voice a rich tenor of unacknowledged sentiment. She tore her gaze from his, protesting (despite herself – she could never remember why she said it), "I would only be a distraction; the dwarves would not have some unknown hobbit interfering with their plans as they make themselves a new home…"

"You would not be unknown to them."

It was almost a promise. Evie suddenly forgot how to breathe.

"It will be hard and uncomfortable work," he added, falteringly, "but once it has started and we have begun to build into the mountains… Would you come?"

Evangeline's heart leapt into her throat. She looked back up at him, her clear grey eyes wide.

"Yes."

She breathed, so quietly it was almost inaudible. The dwarf's thin lips curved into a smile, and it was soon mirrored on the hobbit's face as she realized what this could mean. It was nothing stable, nothing certain, yet – all pragmatism and practicality suddenly became meaningless as he defied every thought rushing through her head.

"Please, take this…"

He offered, tugging a ring off his finger and placing it in her small hand. It appeared large and heavy, but proved rather lighter than she had expected – the hobbit gazed down at the object in surprise, feeling the cool metal in her palm. She picked it up with her other hand so she could look at it. Evie tried not to react to the strange sensation she felt when she touched the inside of the ring, sensing the lingering warmth of Thorin's finger. There were dwarven runes on one side of the piece, and she guessed it was a signet ring of some sort. Evangeline swallowed, still trying to grasp the full extent of what was happening.

"Thorin…"

There was a certain gravity in her tone which made him afraid.

"What does this mean?"

"At this moment I cannot give you what I would, what I wish to, but perhaps someday…"

Looking into her huge, expectant silver eyes made Thorin lose himself; it became difficult for the dwarf to speak again even though the words were so clear in his mind.

"It is a promise."

Her heart stopped in her chest. A promise? Of – she knew of what. She knew exactly what this meant, as any female would. No elf, dwarf, hobbit, human, or wizard could deny the meaning of such a gesture. Evie felt as though she couldn't breathe; a thousand questions and fears and rationalities were racing through her mind in an onslaught of nervous energy. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be real; there was simply no possibility…

"Are you able to make such a promise? Are you sure that –"

"My father is gone, and there is no one else to speak for me. I am, of course, bound to serve the dwarves of Erebor, but in this case I believe that my happiness and that of my people will find a common source."

Evie's next breath cracked in her throat. She had always wanted him to say such words, she had always dreamed of the day… Yet somehow, and with the sudden solemnity of truth, reason weighed heavier than desire. As agonizing as it was to acknowledge, Evie felt it as surely as she did the pain of her wound. Perhaps she clung to prudence to assuage her genuine fear of rejection, of failure… She had to touch and feel something before she could believe in it – and there was far too much at risk between them to plunge recklessly into the deep, as often as she was wont to do such a thing.

"If the Blue Mountains are found to be suitable for the dwarves, you must lead your people there and begin the work of building a home… I have no place in that. They need a king, one fully devoted to them and to their cause, not…"

She trailed off, thinking herself an unfair diversion. Thinking of what others would think. She had no right to him, but Durin's Folk did – and she was not about to come between them, however much she would suffer not to do so.

Thorin sighed, his hands folding over one another in an act of uncharacteristic anxiety; perhaps they were unconsciously noting the absence of the ring.

"Your words hold truth; I must put my people first. Before myself. Before even you…"

The way he said it made her feel faint. Evie blamed it on her condition, but she knew it was not her body betraying her but her heart. She took a shaky breath, trying to remain calm, to think…

"If I were in a different position, if I were not myself, son of –"

"Please..." She begged him, her grey eyes bright with feeling, "Do not think in such a way. You_ are_ yourself. And I would not.." She paused for the briefest of moments, searching for the fortitude to finish the phrase, "I would not have you otherwise."

A change came over the dwarf's face, his thick eyebrows wavering and his mouth falling open as his breath caught in his chest.

"So you would…"

He could not complete the question, although his meaning was clear. More clear than he had ever been.

"Yes.. Yes, of course."

She exhaled. She had not been sure until she said it, until she heard the words falling from her lips, but once they had been spoken the irrevocable sentiment rang true even to her own often confused heart. This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. Pretending anything otherwise would be the greatest lie of her life.

"It could be a long time…"

He cautioned, and she refused the warning with a gentle shake of her head. Her thick curls tousled around her on the pillow, framing her face like a golden crown.

"Then it is good fortune that we are still so young."

It seemed her typical lightheartedness had not been wholly claimed by her sickness. Thorin smiled, and Evie strained to remember seeing him looking happier than he did now. It broke her heart, and she could not know why. Both of his hands eagerly wrapped around one of hers, bringing it to his lips in earnest affection.

"Evangeline…"

He called her name, and the fullness of his voice brought a gloss of corresponding emotion to her eyes, as much as she tried to maintain herself.

"I will return for you, or find you, wherever you are, when all this is over.."

He pledged, and her full pink lips pulled into a hopeful smile. She could not believe it was true, that they could come together for a third time (and perhaps forever), and she would not until that day came. The Tooks may be adventurers, but they were reasonable ones at that. A promise was a beautiful thing, but it was a claim to a future which might never come to pass. Even so, the hobbit hurt herself thinking such awful things with him so near, so distractingly, dreadfully close…

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Marigold stepped inside. It was clear she was interrupting something, but all the same the healer knew how much was at stake and could not let the visitor keep her daughter waking any longer than he had to.

"I am sorry to disturb you, but Evie needs her rest."

Thorin nodded, battling between his despair at parting with her and his elation at receiving her returned affections. His grip on the blonde's hand tightened before he released her, their eyes locking again to paralyzing effect.

"I'll permit you to say your goodbyes, but you must leave her or she will not heal."

Mary warned, trying to stay composed as she realized what must be passing between them. She felt her own designated fraction of the terror and excitement they were no doubt experiencing, but amplified by her own sordid past. To think that her daughter might have a future with a dwarf of Erebor, with the very _king_ of those dwarves, was completely beyond her capacity of belief. Marigold thought of her father in law, of her husband, of their deaths and the dark change it had brought to the family… And now her daughter was more tied up in that legacy than any of them. Mary bit the inside of her mouth, turning and stepping back into the hallway to allow the couple one last moment of privacy and to hide the unwanted tears which had begun welling up in her eyes. She was too old for this, the hobbit despaired, and far too bitter.

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"She is right to worry…"

Evie contemplated morosely, her grey eyes focusing on the large ring still in her hand and reflecting its steely color.

"I may not survive all this."

Her clarification was uninvited, and elicited a desperate noise of protest from the prince.

"Your mother told me…"

"She is trying to be positive." Evie explained, her free hand resting carefully on top of her wound without putting any pressure on the sensitive area. "I also know her craft, and I can tell just how bad it truly is…"

It took a great amount of personal fortitude to meet Thorin's eyes again.

"It is worse than whatever she has told you…" She took a quick breath, realizing her own selfishness almost instantly. If she continued on in such a way, he might refuse to leave her and therefore unwillingly neglect his duty as soon-to-be king. There was a future, a remarkable, incredible, unbelievably perfect future, in which Evie became a queen. If she wanted to be the hobbit who could live out that future, she had to start now. And that meant acknowledging that Thorin was not hers alone, and never would be. His people needed him just as badly as she did, and so it was her duty to start their promised future with a lie.

"Even so," She countered herself, "I am sure my mother will figure something out. It is not so terrible as that…"

"I can stay –"

He would not ignore his obligation to Durin's Folk, not for anyone, yet he could postpone his arrival at the Blue Mountains a few days more if she needed him here.

"No." She said flatly, shifting in the bed and pushing herself up on her pillow.

"No, you must go. I… I will be fine."

She assured him, putting on her bravest face.

"Besides," she considered, "I have quite a lot to fight for."

They shared a smile, although Thorin's appeared even more forced than her own.

"I have already lost you once, Evangeline. I will not lose you a second time."

His voice was gritty and deep; the sound stirred her.

"You will call on me if you ever need anything, or if you are unwell…"

He insisted, and she nodded. "You must go… Before this becomes any harder than it already is."

He made a small noise of agreement. The dwarf leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on her forehead. One of his hands gently grasped her slender shoulder and the other went to the side of her face. His thumb stroked her cheek, calloused fingers drifting across the soft skin of her neck and sending a delightful shiver down her spine. She breathed in when his lips met her forehead, and her brow furrowed longingly beneath his kiss. Thorin felt her heartbeat quicken under the fingers that caressed her neck, and his own was incited to match it. He moved away slowly, admiring the flush of her face and the soft lids of her closed eyes, long eyelashes dark against her pink cheeks. Evangeline soaked up the warmth of him, noticing the heady, unsteadying scent of his body as he bent over her and a few strands of his hair fell across her shoulders.

He mumbled something in his native tongue and slowly backed away, his fingers skimming the line of her jaw as he did. She kept her eyes closed for a moment before opening them again, only to be caught immediately in his debilitating sapphire gaze.

"Until next we meet."

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**Author's Note: Thank you for your comments (Yay for 100 reviews! You are all absolutely amazing and I am so grateful for your support!)! **** I really enjoy reading them and I'm always interested to see what you think of what's happening! I'm trying to let this play out as realistically as possible, as tough as it is to keep Thorin and Evie apart for a little longer… But this chapter is a big milestone, if only in a melodramatic BBC period piece sort of way… hahaha Yet again, I couldn't help myself. **

**xoxo!**


	16. XVI: Flowers, Finches, and a Favor

It was a dull, numbing pain. She felt it all over her body, not just in the wound on her stomach. All Evie could do was lay there, trapped in her bed as if she was in a cage, completely immobilized. If she moved at all the gash across her stomach sent knife blades of pain throughout her body, making her double over on instinct, her teeth gnashing and her eyes smarting.

And so she remained, fading in and out of sleep, with nothing else to do but hope her mother could invent a way to heal her. And what if she could not? The hobbit already felt halfway gone. Her body was failing her; she could barely lift her limbs or keep her eyes open…

.

Evangeline thought of all the stories her father used to share with her, of his adventures and of the legacy of their family. He had died well, fighting for a cause he believed in. He had been honorable and brave and strong.

What about his daughter? Stabbed in the dark by a goblin, too slow to raise her sword in time to save herself and too weak to fight off the infection which followed, just as deadly as her attacker's blade.

She would not die well. She would die in agony – and when her life had been snuffed out at last and merciful sleep had finally taken her, the only memory of her life would be the rampant gossip which seemed to plague her family without compassion or remorse. Her name would be whispered over hedgerows and dashed across armchairs, never venerated and never valued. They had not spoken of Fellin in such a way because he had been respected in the Shire and because Marigold would not allow it. But now, after the third generation of the Took family had expired as payment for their foolish adventures, there would be no way to quell the uproar which would settle over the Shire like a fog rolling over a moor.

It appeared that even now, Evie had not finished hurting her mother; leaving her alone for so long had not been enough. Her escalating relationship with a dwarf and her increasing involvement in their affairs had not proved sufficient. No, it seemed that even in death Evangeline would be a burden for Marigold. Perhaps that was all she would ever be for anyone. With extreme force of effort, one of Evie's pale, trembling hands latched onto the ring which now hung around her neck.

Her mother had put it on a chain for her, trying to seek a balance between the hesitation and expectant fear she felt for her daughter's future and the maternal joy of seeing her falling in love. There were so many things Marigold wanted for her little Evie, and although she had never anticipated her prospects unfolding in such a way, Mary supposed there were worse dwarves than Thorin Oakenshield to have as a husband. Living in the Shire for so long had made the mother forget that often in life the unexpected things become the most significant.

Marigold came to the ailing hobbit's side, biting her lip as she checked the girl's fever. Evie turned into her hand, whimpering from the constant pain throbbing through her body and muddling her senses. All Mary's thoughts of husbands and mountains and marriage fell away as she looked down at her daughter, her heart sinking. It was a very nice dream, to think that Evangeline might marry this Thorin, son of Thrain. That they might live so close, in the Blue Mountains, and perhaps even have children of their own… But it was just a dream. And it would always remain so unless Marigold Took could somehow summon up a miracle.

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The hobbit crossed her arms, trying desperately to think. No matter how she worked things out in her mind or thought through lists of potions and salves, she knew there was only one solution which would be guaranteed to save her only child. This was a sickness beyond her power, and unless she could bear to watch her daughter die, drastic measures needed to be taken. Drawing in a deep, resigned breath, Mary realized the day had finally come and she needed to call in a favor.

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He came, at last, and he was just as she remembered him.

Marigold was sitting next to her door, waiting. There was nothing else to do – she had tried every cure she knew to heal her daughter, but none had worked. Her only hope was this stranger, this old acquaintance, and although she did not trust him an inch, her personal reservations no longer mattered. The hobbit's only concern was if he could restore Evie's life. If he could, that would be the end of it. She would not think of him again; she would forget their first meeting and the occasion which had earned her the favor she was now claiming… Mary did not like to dwell on such things, even now. The memory stung, as all remembrances did when they surrounded her husband.

Marigold Took was tough; hardened by the world even if it barely ever reached her in the safety of the Shire. She liked living here because it gave her a sense of the routine, of the glorious monotony of daily life. She enjoyed knowing what would happen every day; she took pleasure in the surety that if she planted a seed one week it would start growing the next. Her friends and neighbors rarely did anything fantastic and always kept their word. Everything was simple, and everything was easy. She liked it that way, even if she was the only one in her family who did. Marigold had not been able to stop Evangeline from following in her father's brazen footsteps, and even though it meant Mary had to endure the same heartache she had grown to know well from her husband's absence, a small part of her was fond of her daughter's wild nature. She saw so much of Fellin in Evie. Perhaps that was why it hurt so badly to watch her go, to know that there was a very real possibility the young hobbit would never return. Mary understood that being a mother meant protecting her children, but she also knew that a hobbit who wanted adventure had no place in the Shire. Marigold had married into the Took family, and even then she had known what she was getting into. Fellin had always been an adventurer, and she had loved him profoundly for every aspect of his nature, including his intrepid daring.

She warmly remembered the first time they met – at a wedding. A grand tent stretched over the small plain near Green Hill Country like one great cloud, and a wealth of gifts and food rested under its protection. There were flowers everywhere – Mary had even woven little purple blossoms into her long blonde curls. It was twilight and everything was perfect; the sun set over the rolling hills of East Farthing, puffs of smoke bloomed into the air as many of the older hobbits sat back and smoked their pipes (Longbottom leaf had been provided aplenty for the occasion), and everyone who had a mind to danced together in an array of swishing skirts, nimble feet, and bouncing curls. Marigold, of a respectable sort from Overhill, was surprised when Fellin Took asked her to dance. Everyone had heard the audacious stories of his father's voyages, and so his family had been marked out as the adventuring kind. Her mother had warned her to stay away from him (and from Tookbank in general), which of course made her all the more eager to accept his invitation as soon as it was extended. Her suitor offered Mary a stray flower which had fallen out of her hair. She would never forget how he tucked it behind her ear with the steady magnetism of a true rogue, making her blush the color of a poppy.

Fellin had kind grey eyes and a charming smile, and it did not take long for Mary to forget her mother's words and accept the many invitations which followed his first. They began to walk together along the countless footpaths of the Shire, to talk of fireflies and flowers and all those topics of a poetic nature which young people are fond of discussing on long walks. Eventually, they even began to talk of the future. Marigold had broken her mother's heart on the day she married Fellin Took. So how could she truly be surprised that _her_ daughter had brought home a dwarf, of all possibilities? Evie had followed in her fearless father's footsteps and gone off exploring, and the moment she had stepped out the door of their cozy hobbit hole, Mary had known that she was destined for great things.

But what did all that mean? Now that Evangeline was dying, feverish and weak, lying in the bed she had abandoned long ago to her insatiable sense of adventure and need for travel… Evie had come back, after all this time, but not as the proud hobbit Mary had been expecting. Instead she returned home broken and injured, just as her mother had feared every time the night grew dark and long and she missed her child. All these thoughts of glory and accomplishment, of bravery and courage – they meant nothing if her daughter died as her father and grandfather had. Their sacrifices seemed to mean so much less without Evangeline to carry on their legacy; for as much as Mary mourned for her daughter's spirit, there was also a part of her which was innately proud. Still, she had always anticipated Evie returning home to take a husband, to start a family just as Fellin had. She had never quite given up on having grandchildren, on seeing them make mistakes and leave home just as their mother had… The pain and heartbreak of watching them grow and earn their own reprimands for stumbling recklessly forward into the great expanse of Middle Earth so explored by their forbearers… These were the hopes which gave Mary courage when she felt most alone, and now… It was quite possible now that none of these foolish dreams would ever come to pass.

Marigold thought of Thorin, son of Thrain… He was certainly not what she had visualized in her fantasies for her daughter's future. Yet she should have known that Evie never would have done as her father had and married someone so humble… No, her daughter needed a husband who could challenge her and ground her and offer her more than a life of simple pleasures. The Shire would never be enough for her Evie, and Mary should have guessed it from the start. She was unsure of what Thorin Oakenshield could offer Evangeline, but she knew it was something far greater than anything her mother had ever known. He was poised to be a king… And yet he had experienced great hardship, the agony of loss and the fierce effort of fighting for redemption… As much as the thought of him taking her daughter to the Blue Mountains terrified her, Mary saw something in him which assuaged her fears. He was noble, and not simply of blood. He would care for Evangeline as no one else could, including her pitiable mother. And if it truly _was_ love…

Her anxious musings were ended by the shrill chirping of birds. A small group of finches announced his arrival, their voices forming a chorus of hurried fretfulness. Marigold stood, brushing off her skirt and trying to keep her hands from trembling. She should not be as frightened of him as she was – he had never given her reason to fear him, yet she could not dispel the terrible lump in her throat. He was powerful; stronger than anyone she had ever met, and although he seemed to possess the decency which was so necessary to a man of great power, he also lacked a clear sense of himself. He was dizzyingly uncertain at times and rarely seemed sure of what he said, even as he said it. Fellin had recounted much more about the stranger after their time together, but Mary still never quite trusted him. Hobbits were strong in will but weak in nature, and when one so small is confronted with such great ability it is natural to fight the desire to quake in its stead.

Yet the mother ultimately feared nothing but the loss of her child. The visitor was invited into the house and offered something refreshing to ease the effects of his long journey. He refused it, however, and set himself upon the reason for his arduous expedition. With a whirl of his earthen brown cloak, he fell at Evangeline's side and placed an eager hand on her forehead.

"Yes; I can save her."

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Evangeline woke up feeling like a weight had been lifted from her weary body. She felt altogether stronger and more awake than she had in weeks. The hobbit took a deep breath and sat up, reaching immediately to support her stomach out of what had become a habit – but it was unnecessary. The customary pain did not assault her when she moved. In fact, she did not feel anything at all. Lifting up her shirt, she noticed a thin pink scar trailing across her belly, but nothing more. No open wound, no festering signs of infection… She had healed. _She had healed!_

The blonde got out of bed, putting her full weight on her feet for the first time in weeks. She stumbled for a moment as she lunged forward, but managed to regain the ability to walk after a few struggling steps. Evie sighed, overwhelmed by the intense gratitude and giddy relief which always strikes those who have narrowly survived death's lure. The hobbit laughed cheerfully, stretching and closing her eyes as she marveled over how she possibly could have healed so quickly. But what did it matter?! _She was alive! _More alive than ever before. She felt like she was coming out of a dark, foggy night in which the haze hanging around her made it hard to breathe and into a splendid, sunny day with clear air and fresh chances in abundance. Because that was what this was, no matter how she chose to look at it.

This was a new start. And she refused to waste it.

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**Author's Note: You are all fabulous, lovely people! :) ! Hopefully you'll like the direction this will be going in for a chapter or two… I won't pretend like I didn't start writing this in part because I wanted to explore a love story for Thorin, but my intention has also always been to try and tell the story of a hobbit. And the more time I spend with these characters the more I want to understand them better and give them time to grow and develop- so Evie's going to do that for a little while! As is Thorin, but we're going to spend a little more time with Evangeline for now. I hope you enjoy her journey!**

**Also, expect slightly slower updates over the next few weeks. I'll be traveling for half of this week and then working like a madman on my thesis draft for the next two weeks after that… I should still have time to write here and there, but it won't be quite as often as normal. My apologies! **


	17. XVII: Poison

The days passed and slowly faded into weeks, which merged into months. Evie was restored as if by enchantment (her mother never told her the details of her recovery or of the mysterious visitor, who had managed to travel in and out of the Shire relatively unnoticed [or perhaps, for once, their neighbors were too reverent to discuss his movements]). When the hobbit regained her strength, her spirit returned also. Evangeline began to travel again, leaving the Shire behind her and once more saying goodbye to her resigned mother (who had completely surrendered any hope of keeping her daughter in their cozy little hole after the fourth day she had been healthy), and stepping once more out into the great unknown.

Yet she was a different hobbit, now. Just as adventurous and headstrong as ever, but somewhat more matured. Evie knew just what she was abandoning when she left the Shire, and she understood the risks she was taking rather more poignantly than she had when she embarked on her first few journeys. She focused on improving her skill at healing, rather than on seeking out the enthralling or the sensational. Evie promised her mother before she left that she would not go looking for trouble, although the Took family knew more than most just how dangerous it was to walk out your front door, whatever your intentions.

And so Evangeline wandered from town to town, spending time in many of the greatest cities of Middle Earth and practicing her craft. She learned much from the other healers she encountered, and the hobbit was warmed to see the immediate effects of her work; she enjoyed mending the wounds of the injured and tending to the sick, especially with her own malady so fresh in her mind. The traveler wandered from place to place, and little was constant in her life save one thing – she and Thorin exchanged letters almost weekly.

It seemed that no matter where she went, his ravens would find her. They would wait patiently for her to write a reply to their master for as long as it took her to do so, and she grew rather fond of their company. His ravens were her constant companions; she would feed and look after each visitor for a day or two before she sent it back to Ered Luin. Thorin wrote of his building projects, the modest metal wealth of the mountains, and the promising success of Durin's Folk as they established a safe and prosperous home for themselves. It was slow work, he claimed, but they were making great progress.

He wrote to her of the dark, smooth stone they selected for the entrance hall and the modest grandeur of the small city they were founding, of their mining projects and the size of the throne room. She tried to imagine it all in her head, but having never been in a dwarven dwelling, she could not quite picture all he described. Living in the mountains had always seemed so strange to her, so cold and unfriendly. Hobbit holes were warm and comfortable, full of nice smells and small spaces; the large, open caverns Thorin wrote of seemed so foreign to the Shireling… She had seen the halls of Minas Tirith and so could guess at how Thorin's new home must appear, but even so, she bet her inkling was just that, and only by seeing it for herself would she ever truly understand his meaning.

Unfortunately, that did not seem like a possibility, for the time being. She was exploring and learning her craft, he was building a home for his people and learning how to be a king… It was too hard, now, to come together and start something new. And so she waited, as did he. For what, they could not know… But Evangeline supposed she would feel it when the time came – feel it in her very soul like the tugging of the imaginary thread of her unquestionable destiny, calling her forward into a future she was meant to possess with all the fullness and vitality of incautious youth feeling itself growing old and fighting against age's indelible pull.

It was like her life had been tied up by a string and every time she tugged on it and followed where it led, she would end up right back where she started, with the dwarves. It seemed her first adventure had been so much more than that – it had been a sign of things to come. Wherever she went and whatever she did, Evangeline Took was certain to cross destinies again and again with the dwarves of Erebor. She was beginning to accept it and, if she divulged all, to hope for it. Every time she met Thorin Oakenshield she felt her life change as if the ground was shifting beneath her. It was destabilizing and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time, and the only thing she knew for sure was that she did not want it to stop.

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The first call to action she had received, however, was not from Thorin Oakenshield. It was from her old friends in Gondor, who she had gone exploring with when she had first reunited with Thorin in Minas Tirith. At the time, they had not found whatever or whoever had been attacking travelers on the borders of Gondor's territory, and had called their quest complete by guessing that whatever it was had retreated or been killed. On the contrary, it seemed the threat to their hinterlands was coming from the Harad, a tribe of Southerons who had begun raiding people and towns at the very edge of Gondor's territory shortly after Evie had left for the Blue Mountains with the dwarves. Rangers had been sent to do reconnaissance in the area, and those few who had returned told stories of terrible poisoned arrows – any shot that hit its mark was sure to kill, and even a graze could spell demise for the victim. Unprepared to deal with such devious deathdealing, Evie's former companions had remembered their hobbit friend and sent word begging her to join them in the south and save as many lives as she could. The healer could not deny such a request, and so within a few weeks of receiving Barenir's letter she arrived in Gondor and was quickly directed to the camps the rangers had constructed near where the conflicts were prevalent. And so this was how Evangeline Took set to her work, using every ounce of the knowledge she had gained in practicing her craft and relying on her quick thinking and unmatchable endurance to protect another people she had come to know and respect.

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In saving the lives of others, she tried very hard not to think of her own.

When Evie had first put on Thorin's ring, it had been heavy. Whether it was from the newness of its weight around her neck or the gravity of the promise it symbolized, she always felt its presence resting close to her heart. Yet as time went on, it became much lighter. She grew accustomed to the feeling of it against her skin, and sometimes, in a brief moment of inexplicable panic, she would think it had gone missing – the hobbit would reach for it at the center of her breast and the wild thumping of her heart would only calm once she sensed the metal ring resting safely beneath her clothing.

It had been over four years since Thorin had made her the promise – and while that was not so great an expanse of time, it was beginning to feel that way for the hobbit. She wondered if it was the same for Thorin, and that just as the ring seemed lighter upon her breast, perhaps the promise it represented had become lighter in his. Their correspondences had diminished – they exchanged letters maybe once or twice a month, but neither possessed much to write about other than the struggles of their individual duties, which did not often vary (or were too grim to speak of; the healer had no desire to regale the dwarf with gruesome stories of war), and Evie could sense that a change had come over the prince. He was a king now, and the tone of his letters matched this elevation. He was more distant, more emotionally removed. But what had she expected? Of course this adjustment would affect him… And she had changed as well. Gone was the cheery tone of her first letters, her stories of adventure… Living in Gondor and healing the injured rangers had darkened her life, and it was hard to feign her trademark merriment when she was watching men die – not in waves, but one by one in a slow, deadly tricking off of human life.

Even with their more stoic tone, Thorin's letters were all that kept her going. Any distraction from the nasty carnage of her healing duties was welcome, and one from her king most of all. She tried to imagine Ered Luin, its halls and its caverns stretching off into the quiet depths of the mountains… She dreamed of its vast expanses, full of silence and peace – at least not the shrieks of dying men as poison ripped through their veins and their failing bodies succumbed to the deadly toxins.

She had devised various cures for the poisons, but her treatments were never sure, never certain. Everything relied on how quickly the wounded were brought to her, where they had been injured, and how much poison snuck into their bodies before the deadly arrow had been removed. She created a temporary remedy, a potent salve which she gave the rangers to take with them and use on their comrades the moment they were pierced. It staved off the illness produced by the poison until she could tend to the victim personally and try her other methods; each case was different, and often more ghastly than the last. The Harad were learning the art of death with improving brutality and efficiency as their skirmishes with the rangers dragged on, much to the horror of the healer, who was met with corpses twisted by pain and the injured men who envied them.

Evangeline began to forget what it was to smile or to sing, and was pulled outside of herself by the extreme circumstances of the guerilla war she was fighting in. Day dragged into day, and sometimes she could not remember what it was she was fighting for. Yet in the back of her mind, or somewhere in the deepest recesses of her heart, she never quite forgot. As light as the ring might seem upon her chest, she never once removed it nor overlooked its meaning. It was a promise,_ her_ promise, and even in the midst of danger and chaos, she secretly put her faith and trust in the ardent hope of its fulfillment.

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**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your patience! It has been a very rough few weeks, but I'm almost through! My thesis draft is due on Friday, so that has been my 24/7 lately, but I really wanted to sit down and write something tonight. So here we are! This is not as well edited as many of my other chapters, so please forgive any errors or a general lack of eloquence. It's been a while, so I really wanted to update!**

**I have most of the next chapter written (I did it a little while ago… before the thesis storm), so that should come soonish! I really like it, actually, and I think Evie's going on an interesting journey in finding out her own sense of what the word 'home' means to her. So please stick around! I promise I haven't forgotten about this in the least- I've just been very, **_**very**_** busy! **

**Thank you for all your well wishes for my thesis, and comments on my story! You keep me writing and you keep me smiling, even when things get rough. Xoxo!**


	18. XVIII: The Gift of a Warning

Evie had never felt more alone in her life.

She had not received a letter from Thorin in many weeks; now they sent them as they were able to find the time to write and the resources to write with. He had little of the first, she of the second- it had become harder and harder to keep in close contact with each other, and to connect across hundreds of miles and so many months she had lost count. Evie did not regret her choice to come here and lend aid to her friends and their people, but the hobbit could not deny that it had come at a cost; one she was only just now beginning to accurately appraise.

Evie was sitting in the canvas tent they had built for her living quarters while she remained on the fringes of Gondor's territory; it was light and portable so they could move their camp if necessary, either closer or farther away from the skirmishes still taking place between the scouts sent to secure their borders and the Harad who threatened them. Sometimes Evie thought it was senseless- all this brutality, this overwhelming violence, but in her heart she knew it was about more than who owned which piece of land. It was about defending territory, fighting for the safety of families and settlements, protecting homes. And so the hobbit bandaged wounds, invented new salves, called for supplies, and, worst of all, held the hands of the dying as they breathed their last and the inescapable hand of Death reached for them with fatal purpose.

They were close to the skirmish lines now; fairly large groups of men had been sent out to try and dislodge the attackers, and many had been returning with injuries. Their camp had moved closer so the scouts would have a shorter distance to travel in order to get medical attention, and Evangeline had not protested. The danger meant little to her- she was much more concerned with saving lives than worrying about her own. Whatever her fate would be, she was resigned to it. She believed she had been saved from her stabbing for a reason, and perhaps it was so she could help these men protect their families and their strongholds. She dared to hope that it was for more than just this grim destiny, but that was not for her to decide. Or was it?

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She heard a shout and the stirring of the troops being alerted. Evie stood, wrapping her outer cloak around herself and pulling the front flap of her tent to the side so she could trace the source of the disturbance. Who would have thought that her little party of adventurers all those long years ago could have led to this? They had not known the cause of the missing travelers in the hinterlands of Gondor then, but they certainly did now.

As she had unfortunately suspected, a party of six men had returned- three were injured. Evie immediately set to work, steeling herself as she entered the medical tent. The men were laid on cots set up for that purpose, and the hobbit's small hands flew along the shelves of her collapsible kit with a deftness which spoke of many years of experience employed curing ailments in need of urgent care. She worked with two other healers- Leona and Feanore, two women of Gondor who had decided to brave the dangers of the south so they could try and save as many of their kinsmen as possible. Leona was quite accomplished in healing, but often deferred to Evie's well-traveled expertise, and Feanore was a novice eager to hone her craft and help where she could. They had originally been joined by two more, one of whom had lost her husband while working with them and decided to return to her home and mourn for him in peace, and another who could not cope with the intensity of healing injuries of such a gripping, horrendous nature and turned back due to her weak constitution.

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Leona was already tending to one of the men, making him drink the antidote Evie had concocted to combat the Harad's most recent poison and praying they had not already fashioned a new one. Evie went to another of the victims and tried to do the same, although it was clear he was already beyond their help. He had been struck with an arrow to the chest, and it did not take a healer of Evie's caliber to recognize that the poison was coursing freely through his veins. He was pale and quivering, his body seizing more and more with every rasping breath. The hobbit asked Feanore to come and tend to him; she brought a wet cloth to calm his perspiring brow and a sedative to numb the pain, as was their custom with men terminally injured in this way. He was muttering something to himself, about a wife and children, but his words were largely incoherent as his tongue began to swell in his mouth, the deadly ink of the poisoned arrow taking its final effects. He was a man, desperate and needy as any other, and yet she tried to see him as a medical case- as an ailment with or without a cure. If she thought of him as a person, if she thought of them all as people… It was too much; the hurt was too real and the pain too stifling to imagine, let alone submit to. The blonde took a deep breath and tried to ignore the lump in her throat as she moved on to their final patient.

The gravity of his injury was intermediate, somewhere between that of either of his two companions. So she tried to help him navigate through that terrible plane between life and death and miraculously escape to the other side. He choked on the antidote she helped him drink, tilting his head back and encouraging the burning liquid down his sputtering throat. Evie cleaned his wound (which was along his shoulder) and rubbed a pulpy salve on the bleeding cut, clearing it of the foul discharge which erupted from its opening. She bandaged it, wrapping the thin sheets of linen around his shoulder and trying not to react as he hissed in pain despite his obvious attempts to be brave.

The hobbit laid him down in his cot, bringing a blanket for her patient once there was nothing else left to do but wait and see if the antidote would do its work with purpose. If he survived the next few hours, she had additional tricks she could use to try and cheat Death- but until then there was little she could do for him except attempt to make him more comfortable. The healer was about to leave him when he caught her wrist in his hand. Evie's breath stuck in her throat and she looked down at the injured Gondorian, her startled grey eyes meeting his cloudy blue ones.

"Thank you."

He whispered hoarsely, and the mingled gratitude and fear lighting up his sallow face was almost more than she could bear. The blonde sat down on a stool by his side, swallowing. It was only now that she looked at him and truly saw him… His face was weathered with wrinkles- payment for far too many battles, perhaps more than any man could expect to safely endure. Yet underneath all that he seemed a relatively young man, only five or six years beyond the start of marrying age. His youth was masked by a full beard and the blunt lines marring his face, but the longer she stared at him the more she recognized it. This man wasn't babbling like his companion (who had recently gone quiet); she guessed that he had no wife or child to remember him, no name to call as he fell silent and was overcome with the fatigue of fighting the poison running through his body. She watched his hazy eyes close and the wrinkles of his tanned flesh even out as sleep drew its foggy curtain over his consciousness. There was something about him which struck her, and she was almost afraid to know why.

Evie sighed and stood up, moving to check on the other two patients. Leona's man was doing well, and it looked as though he would heal without any permanent damage. The other was already gone- Feanore placed the cloth over his face and had already called for some of the men camping with them to come and remove the body, which they did promptly. The hobbit bit the inside of her mouth, resigned.

"Thank you both for your work tonight. You did very well… Why don't you get some rest and I will look after these two? If tonight is any sign of what is to come, we should expect more arrivals over the next few days… We will need to take shifts."

She explained, and the women agreed. At first it had felt strange, for all of them, to have a hobbit giving orders. But after the first few waves of attacks, Evie had swiftly proven her mettle and her skill at healing, despite her diminutive size. The foot and a half the women had on her felt much smaller when matched with her quick wit and even faster hands. Now they were all friends, and they worked well together, always ready to do whatever it took to save as many lives as they could. Evangeline placed a tender hand on Feanore's shoulder as she shuffled somberly to the door. Nothing needed to be said- every loss hurt and there was little they could do about it but try even harder to save the next patient. Evie's stormy grey eyes fell upon the bearded man she had just tended to, and she sensed the growing knot in her stomach gain even more girth. Her friends left, and soon it was just the hobbit and the injured men. She checked the bandage of the first, glad to see the graze he had received was faring well. He would be fine if offered another small dose of her antidote in an hour or two. She retreated again to her seat next to the other patient, her troubled brow furrowing as she did. He shifted in his sleep, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. The healer had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

.

Over the next few hours she watched as he grew more and more pale, succumbing to the poison creeping through his veins like dye staining clear water. It was a slow, terrible process, to die in the way he was. His body fought the sickness every moment, and although it consistently failed it continued to struggle, like a hand reaching out for something just outside its grasp. Evie wished she could do something to shorten the distance between his groping fingers and the promise of life he so urgently sought, but nothing she could do would make a difference. It was a futile thing, to hope in a time like this, but despite that learned understanding she found herself closing her eyes and folding her hands and daring with whatever audacity she had left to hope he would survive.

.

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It took another hour for him to die.

His trembling got worse, his skin beading with the sweat of his intolerable fever. His brow dripped with sweat, his fingers grasped weakly at the cot, at her- Evie's hand held his, steadying him as the tremors took over his wilting body. His face screwed up in pain; his eyes adopted the hollow sheen of terror, the look of a man who knew he was about to lose not only a battle, but an entire war. He couldn't breathe- the hoarse sound of the gasps rattling through his throat made the hobbit feel sick inside. She administered the sedative she had concocted for this very unhappy purpose, and it calmed him somewhat. She had waited to give it to him because she knew when she did, it was admitting defeat. Once his body grew calm it would begin to flag; his muscles would relax and he would slowly stop fighting.

Yet it seemed to happen much more quickly than Evie expected- as soon as she gave him the potion it took immediate effect. The man's eyes opened, eyelids sagging as he tried to look up at her. Her heart froze in her chest, her throat tightening as their eyes met one last time. There was something in his gaze she would never forget, something in pain but also at peace. It was the tragedy of a lost life, and, perhaps, the gift of a warning.

He shuddered, his hand tightening inside hers for a brief, all too temporary moment before going limp. His head turned against his pillow, his eyes still open but now devoid of life. It was all over.

.

She had never asked him if he had a family or not- someone to mourn him when he was gone. Perhaps it was true he had no one. Or perhaps he had pretended that Evangeline was another woman- a wife, a mother, a lover... Evie couldn't keep her mind off of it, but why? What did it matter? He was gone now, whether or not there was anyone out there to miss him. She had seen so many (too many) men die under her watch before... Why was he so different?

.

It hit her like a great shock to her system. First her hands began to tremble. The hobbit felt her body give way beneath her so that she slouched forward in her seat, collapsing onto the edge of the bed and letting her head fall gracelessly into her folded arms. The tears came out of nowhere, furious and relentless. She had remained resilient throughout her time in Gondor- she had always been strong and proud and ready for whatever came her way. She had to be, if she wanted to lead a team and save lives. The victims she treated were at their darkest hour; they were weak and tired and often dying... They relied on her to lend them courage, or else to care for them with the tenderness they needed when that stalwart bravery fell apart in their final moments. But now, here, in _this_ moment... Evie's chest ached and she found it suddenly very hard to breathe. Each gasp proved more frantic than the last. She tried to quell her abrupt hyperventilation, but to no avail. She hiccupped, tears streaming down her full cheeks in little torrents of unstoppable grief.

The world turned upside down, and everything blurred together before her eyes. Dazed, confused, and visibly distraught, the healer closed her eyes and buried her face in her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

No matter what she did, it never felt like enough. Her salves, her hopes, even her tears… They could not bring back the dead. Nothing could. And the worst of it was, these would not be the last victims of the border skirmishes. More would come, and others after them. Wave upon limitless wave of death would hang like a shadow over her life, and unless she stopped it, it would never end. But what could she do? This was her purpose, her calling… To fight for all those families in Gondor who these brave rangers were defending- the wives, the mothers, the children, the adolescents who had their whole lives ahead of them… Her tears fell, one upon another, tumbling down her cheeks without creed or purpose. Heartsick and utterly unwell, the hobbit collapsed in a broken heap beside the fallen man.

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For how long she stayed there, weeping, she would never know. Evie cried herself to sleep, and when she woke it was daylight and Merein, the leader of their camp, was standing over her. He took one look at the little hobbit, tear tracks dried upon her cheeks and clothes wrinkled from last night's desperate vigil, and placed a sturdy hand on her diminutive shoulder. It was an act, she guessed, of sympathy, although she did not feel very consoled by it. He gave her arm an expressive squeeze and let her go, his eyes hard but adopting a flicker of compassion she might have mistook for pity.

"Go home."

It wasn't advice; it was an order, and one she was not about to argue with. Taking a deep breath which cracked in her throat, Evangeline sat up. The blonde brushed her hair out of her face and rubbed her eyes with the fragile fatigue of someone who had just crossed a threshold. In her own way, she had... And there was no going back.

_Home_. What did that even mean? The word felt so hollow, so forgotten… Did she even have a home, anymore? The Shire certainly didn't feel like one. It was a place of comfort, yes, of early memories… But it wasn't home. It never had been.

Evie closed her eyes, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself as though she could try to hold the broken pieces of her life together through such simple physical contact. She heard Merein leave- he wasn't one to stick around when he wasn't needed, and it was clear enough what was wrong with his friend. She was a healer; she would figure it out for herself if she hadn't already.

_Home._ The word rang in her soul like a bell, reverberating through her consciousness until it was all she could think of, all she could feel… She pushed away the pain and the sorrow and the sheer exhaustion caused by watching so many good men die and feeling like she had failed each and every one, somehow- the hobbit tried to focus on the idea of safety, of security and comfort and all the things that the word 'home' was supposed to mean. Somewhere she felt she belonged.

It was like a dream, the way she remembered everything that had happened. His soft lips on her forehead, her head on his shoulder, his hands on her cheeks… Every inch of intimacy they had shared flashed before her eyes like an epiphany. Her gentle brow furrowed as Evie retrieved the ring from under her shirt and held it between her thumb and forefinger. The dwarven runes almost glowed in the morning light, and her thumbprint skimmed across the little engraved lines with sudden clarity.

_It is a promise. _

Evangeline didn't know if those words still held true today, over four years after they had been spoken, but there was one thing she was remarkably certain of.

For the very first time, she was going home.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for sticking with me, everyone! **** 2.5 more weeks and then my thesis is due! (ahh!) My computer has also not been working, so it's been tough to be able to write, despite how much I've wanted to in order to destress! So, in any case, more apologies for any delays in updating. **

**I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I've been working on it for a little while now, and I personally really like it… I always (naturally) think of Thorin and Erebor when I think of the title of this work (and the redefinition of what home could be to him), but this is really Evie's story and I think this chapter was where it all finally fit into place for me about what 'home' means to her as a character and what she has been experiencing on her adventures out on her own. **

**Much love to you all, and thank you for your kind comments! **


	19. XIX: Unexpected

Evie took a deep breath, completely unprepared to take her next step forward, but as ready as she would ever be. In this single moment, the hobbit realized she had never felt more afraid nor more sure of herself- and of what she wanted.

Even so, that didn't mean this was going to be easy. If by some perfect miracle of fate Thorin still felt the way he had all those years ago… She didn't dare to hope it could be true. And if it was, she questioned whether everything else could possibly fall into place; there were far too many obstacles to their union, too many uncertainties… Evie did not doubt herself, or him, but she could not bring herself to believe that his people would approve of her, that she would be welcomed here in the cold mountain city of the dwarves, that she could ever truly _belong_…

So why was she here, then? If what she had come for was so impossible… No matter the odds, Evie knew that this was her chance at finding something she hadn't known until now that she had been looking for. One had to be lost to be found, she supposed, and she had gotten herself plenty lost over the last few years. She had wandered all over Middle Earth, and it was only recently that she had finally discovered a destination. All she could do now was hope that it would be what she expected, what she needed. That this would be the future she had always dreamed of.

.

The hobbit was greeted at the door by a rather eager looking dwarf with a beard which curled in three pieces down his chest. It was a dark auburn color, and he stroked it thoughtfully as he watched her dismount her pony and approach him. Evie tried to pretend as though it was natural that she was visiting, after all this time and rather unannounced, although she immediately felt uncomfortable. Dwarves had a very particular way of judging others on sight- this one's heavy gaze reminded Evangeline of when Thorin first introduced her to Dwalin and the hostile look the warrior had given her. It was as though he had already decided who she was before she had even spoken a single word, and whether or not there was any reason to believe his evaluation was true, he was determined to stick by it. But Dwalin had changed his mind about her by the end of their journey (or at least she thought he had), so perhaps dwarves were not as inflexible as the stories claimed.

"Good afternoon…"

She greeted the dwarf, proud that her voice was full and rich in her throat and did not betray the meagerness she felt in her heart. As hesitant as she was, passing the reins of her pony to another dwarf who came when called by the first, Evie felt an inner strength building inside her… She had faced the darkest nightmares of the open road, poison and sickness and all manner of maladies, even Death itself… She could certainly face Thorin Oakenshield and his doormen.

The blonde took a deep breath, finally reaching stairs where the dwarf was standing. She gazed up at the massive doors leading to the mountain halls of Ered Luin, awestruck at their magnitude. Thorin had described them in his letters, but she had not expected them to be this grand- they stretched high above her, and although they were not carved in any elaborate way, their sheer size was impressive. It seemed as though Durin's Folk had performed wonders over the last few years… The toil Thorin had described proved itself before her very eyes, and their work was beyond her imagining.

Evie's jaw tightened, her nervous grey eyes returning to the porter, who stood elevated a few steps above her.

"My name is Evangeline Took; I have come to speak with Thorin Oakenshield."

She introduced herself, and the auburn haired dwarf scoffed at her as though she had just told a joke of the finest order.

"And do you have an appointment to see the king?"

His tone was far more sardonic than she possessed the patience to appreciate, and the hobbit felt herself puff up naturally in indignation.

"I did not realize I needed one."

She tried to sound confident, but she was afraid some of her uncertainty had slipped through in her tone. Perhaps it had been a great mistake not to wait for Thorin's next raven, but Evangeline had not been able to bear staying in Gondor for another moment. After she had decided to leave, there was absolutely nothing tying her there but the promise of a future of unfulfilled promises and broken chances. She refused to continue living as she had been; after that last long night healing the rangers (or, rather, failing to do so), she had vowed not to let her life prove hollow. She had spent so much of her time fighting for other people, their dreams and their families- it was time she fought for her own.

"I'm sorry, lass, but you're going to have to come back another day. The king is doing business this afternoon and is not accepting visitors. If you need somewhere to rest for the evening I may be able to offer you a place nearby or in the stables, and there is an inn not too far off, although you should be familiar with all that if you are indeed Shirefolk, as you seem to be."

Evie felt a lump grow in her throat. Why had she expected to be admitted immediately? What _had_ she expected? Thorin to be waiting for her at the door, his arms open wide? She had not warned him of her coming, she had not thought this through… That was clear enough. Breathing in, the blonde squeezed her hands at her sides into fists and took another step forward so that she was on the same stair as the altogether rather rude dwarf who had greeted her, and who hadn't even given her his name.

Now that they were on equal footing, he only had six inches or so over her and she felt a mite better about things, even though she was accustomed to being physically looked down on. If there was one personal trait she had learned in Gondor, it was how to be commanding.

"If you would please send a message to Thorin, I'm sure he would-"

"The _king_" the porter emphasized the word and the sound of it made Evie's heart throb in her chest (he was royalty, now… How could things ever be the same?) "would not be disturbed in his business. I will have him notified later this evening, and if you come back tomorrow I shall let you know when he is available for an appointment. This is how things shall be done."

It seemed so final; she did not know what else to say. Hobbits paid homage to no king, and although she had spent considerable time in Gondor, she never experienced privilege of meeting the steward who held the highest position in that realm. She supposed the bureaucracy involved in meeting him was just as tedious, but she had rather hoped that here, at least, things might be different. But a king needed rules which made him so, she supposed.

Sighing, Evie unfalteringly staged one last protest.

"Are you sure there is no way I could see him this evening? I have come a very long way and I…"

Without thinking, she impulsively slipped the thick chain carrying Thorin's ring from around her neck, and offered it for the dwarf to view.

"Might this convince you that he holds an interest in seeing me?"

"How did you get this?!"

He questioned her, his brown eyes lighting up with unexpected fire. He yanked the necklace from her fingers, holding the ring up to the blistering sunlight and looking at it more closely.

"How in Durin's name-"

"I think that's quite enough, Nrerir."

A new voice joined the conversation, and Evie turned her desperate eyes upon another dwarf, this one with a long white beard and a scar running across his temple. He held out his hand for the ring authoritatively, as though the other dwarf was a child, and the doorman relinquished the trinket without another word. The new arrival gazed down at the ring, running his finger along the engraving and then passing it back to Evie, who was feeling more frustrated than she had been in a long time.

"Thank you…"

Her gratitude, at least, was honest. The white haired dwarf looked her over (although not in the same way as the other had; this one nurtured an inexplicable kindliness shining in his eyes which she took comfort in), his mouth twisting into a smile.

"You must be Evangeline."

He guessed, and Evie's eyes widened in surprise.

"How did you.."

She stammered, feeling altogether foolish. There was something calming about this other dwarf, something inexplicable which put her strangely at ease.

"My name is Balin, and I am most certainly at your service."

She took a breath and replied, almost mechanically,

"Evangeline Took, at yours."

The healer did not know what to say or how to act… How had he known her name? She put her necklace back on, pulling her hair through the chain and letting her hand rest almost unconsciously around the small metal ring hanging from it.

"Now, why don't we go and try to find Thorin?"

The gatekeeper, Nrerir, opened his mouth to protest, but Balin silenced him with a glance.

"I expect you will be having a conversation with the king you have proven so objectively loyal to before the night is up. I doubt it will be a pleasant one."

Evie's grey eyes flashed with astonishment as the shock wore through her- they were going inside.

She was here. And she was about to see Thorin again.

It was only now that they were past the overzealous guard and through the front doors that Evie realized just how frightened she was of this moment. She admired the gaping entrance hall, the smooth stone surrounding her which managed to appear elegant and beautiful despite its coldness. Balin led her forward, their footsteps echoing through the wide, open spaces.

"I am sure you have many questions, but I do not think I am the right one to answer them."

He suggested, gesturing for her to enter a side room.

"Wait here for a moment, and I will find out where he is. Please don't mind Nrerir- he thinks that because our settlement here is so new he has to make everything more formal… Apparently we are not regal enough for him as we are."

Evie tried to smile, her grip on the ring growing a little tighter. Her new acquaintance turned to walk away, but after taking a few steps forward he spun back around, looking her over once more.

"Is he expecting you?"

He asked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The answer to his query was altogether too obvious, but he thought it was polite to ask it all the same.

"No..."

She informed him, swallowing. His brown eyes were warm when they met hers, and there was a twinkling in them which surprised her.

"Well, then. A pleasant surprise."

The dwarf winked at her, and a true smile flickered on the hobbit's pink lips in reply.

"I certainly hope so."

She sighed, trying to relax. Balin grinned, affirming,

"I'm sure it will be."

His encouragement was not misplaced, and she tried to let it sink in. He knew who she was, and most likely why she was here, which meant Thorin must have spoken of her… That, at least, was a good omen. She nodded to the white haired dwarf as he disappeared into an adjoining room, trying to remember how to breathe.

_"I have already lost you once, Evangeline. I will not lose you a second time."_

As she stood alone in the empty halls of Ered Luin, waiting to see Thorin Oakenshield for the first time in five years, Evie desperately hoped that she had not lost him.

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**Author's Note: This is not my best, but I really wanted to write something and I've been working on this scene for a little while. It's been hard to find the time (or the computer!) to write, but at least it's something! My thesis is due Friday (ahh!), so expect a lot more from me after that! Thank you for sticking with me- your comments really help keep me going when things get rough, and I appreciate each and every one. 3 I hope you're all well! And sorry for delaying the big reunion… But I want to do it right, which means I have to wait until I'm not living on caffeine and feeling crazy! :X But I'll try to get something together soon!**


	20. XX: Surrounded by Stone

"Right this way."

Balin offered, gesturing towards the room he had just returned from. Evie blinked, trying to collect the inner strength to take this last step forward. After she did this, the rest would be up to Thorin. She had done her part, she had come back… What more was there to say? Her actions spoke loud enough. The ring she wore around her neck like an amulet explained her feelings more eloquently than any speech could. Breathing in, the blonde placed her hands at her sides and followed Balin into the meeting room.

It was not so much a room as a hall- the ceilings were high and the space which opened up before her was much larger than she anticipated. All this seemed like a strange, uncomprehending observation in the back of her mind, as her only focus was on the dwarves gathered in the center of the room. They were arranged around a large table with various papers strewn across the patterned wood. Thorin stood in front, and he had already turned to face her as she entered.

The hobbit stepped forward, gathering the skirt of her yellow dress and curtseying. It seemed the correct deferential motion to address a king with. She did not know what to call him in introduction; how did one speak to a king? Instead of greeting him more personally, she directed her eyes to the stone flooring, her hear t beating wildly in her chest.

"Evangeline"

He breathed, his mouth falling open as if he wanted to say more, but no sound came out. The king looked down at her, agape, and Evie used all her carefully built up courage to force her large grey eyes to meet his startled sapphire ones. Once she was looking at him, however, she couldn't stop. She knew she should look down in reverence, but after five years she could not bear to take her eyes off him- the wiry fullness of his beard, the stern knot of his brow, the careful curve of his nose and the perfect lips they led to... She longed to feel them against her skin again, to know their touch against her own.. She blushed internally at the thought. Seeing him again brought back an immediate and overpowering _need_- one she felt in every sinew of her small body. It was an aching she sensed in her very bones, and one which knew a single answer.

"My Lord."

She addressed him formally, too afraid to call him king and know the reality of the appellation, although he stood before her as no less. For he looked as she would imagine a king to; tall and strong, ease of command stitched in every muscle. He was dressed simply, however, in a blue tunic. His dark hair tumbled over his shoulders, and she was amazed as she drank in the sight of him that he looked almost the same as the last time they had spoken. His broad shoulders were more set, now, his back a little straighter. The years of traveling had bore down upon him, but now that he was living under the thick stone of a mountain he was at ease once again. He was almost the same in appearance, but had he changed in other ways? Evangeline knew she had been altered over the last five years, and she wasn't sure if it was for the better. Could they truly go back to where they had been? Could they reclaim that moment, that promise…?

They were spellbound, caught up in the sudden presence of one another and unable to break away. It took one of Thorin's companions, who he had been meeting with before she entered, to speak up and break their entrancement.

"My Lord?"

Evie did not realize at first that he was waiting for an explanation of why there was a hobbit standing in their hall.

"May I introduce to the Council, Evangeline Took of the Shire."

Balin spoke up, relieving Thorin of the responsibility. Evie curtsied once more, bowing her head in what she hoped was appropriate respectfulness. She was unfamiliar with the customs of the dwarves, and it took all her strength to tear her gaze from Thorin's. The dwarves surrounding the king introduced themselves in turn: Nrerin, Tekar, Kochar, and Belinir. They were all at her service, although the last seemed almost reluctant to offer his. After this formality had been completed, the prince made king finally rediscovered his voice.

"I was not informed of your coming."

He announced, his voice deep and authoritative. Evie's heart froze in her chest. Did he regret it, then? What if he had changed his mind, even about her visit to Ered Luin?! The hobbit tried to breathe, to fight the panic rising in her throat. After all this time, what if the dream she had been chasing had always been an illusion?

"I apologize, my Lord, I did not want to wait for a messenger and thought to carry it myself."

She explained, her grey eyes flickering up to meet his incalculable blue ones. He was an enigma once again, just as he had been the first time she had met him. They had come so far since that terrible day, but she wondered if there was more of the hardened warrior king in him now than the prince she had come to know after long discussions by the fireside during their travels. She wanted to speak to that dwarf, to tell him of her adventures, her hopes and her worries, to connect with him once more. But he was not present, it seemed. Instead, there was a king, and one who showed no sign of his former passion other than the strange tension in the line of his jaw, which could have been an indication of many things.

"Had I known you were coming I would have prepared something finer," he told her, the lines of his face hardening. "Even so, I would be honored by your presence at dinner."

"Yes, my Lord."

She agreed, not sure of what else to say. She felt the eyes of everyone else in the room on her in varying degrees of surprise and confusion. Only Balin seemed undisturbed by the encounter. He gave Thorin a stern look which Evie thought could have rivaled her mother's most warning glances, and she bit back the question which leapt immediately into her mind. Thorin must set the rules for their interaction. She was his visitor. Ring or no ring, he had given no sign that this was any more than a cordial visit from a friend.

"Balin will show you the mountain. I would join you but I have business I must attend to."

He commanded, a lump growing in his throat, although the hobbit could not know it. He seemed so cold, so removed… His eyes pinned her, just as surely and as destabilizing as they always had, but everything else about his manner was nondescript. There was no embrace, no acknowledgement of their previous intimacy, no warmth… It made Evie's heart feel like a hard knot weighing heavily in her chest.

"I will try to meet with you, but I have much to attend to before this evening."

His words were reasonable, but they hit the healer as if she had been struck. How could he be so calm, so stoic?! She remembered him standing on the mountainside at Moria in a flash that felt more like an idea than a memory. Swallowing, Evie nodded, bowing her head before turning to exit the room before Thorin's seeming indifference and the wide, curious eyes of his advisors. Her cheeks felt hot and her hands balled into fists as she stepped back into the adjoining room, leaning against the inside wall and closing her eyes.

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Evie breathed, in and out... This would end as it was meant to, and she would survive whatever happened. Even so, that perfect idea of her future haunted her; her life and the happiness the healer was so sure she was on the cusp of... It was so bright and so incredibly clear in her mind that it made her head spin. She and Thorin together... However everything else would work out she could not begin to imagine, but the idea of Thorin looking into her eyes again with that expression of ultimate care and intimate need he had displayed back at her home all those years ago; simply thinking of it made her knees feel like they were about to give out beneath her... He was her greatest fear and her most desperate hope.

Evie pushed herself off the wall, smoothing out the wrinkles of her pale yellow skirt and sighing deeply. Everything would make more sense after they were able to talk privately - away from the judgmental eyes of his advisors and safe from the prejudices of his kind. She promised herself that; if she could only speak to him, of course everything would make sense. If only there was a way she could approach him privately? Evie bit her lip, fiddling with the hem on the side of her dress. .

"By my beard, if it isn't Evangeline Took!"

Evie heard a gruff voice behind her and smiled as she turned to face him, knowing there could be only one dwarf who owned such an accent. She was snatched from her self-concerned scheming by the interruption of an old friend, and the distraction was all too welcome as it liberated her from her muddled thoughts.

"Dwalin!"

She addressed the dwarf, giving him a small curtsy as playful sort of greeting, not quite demonstrating the deference she would have to a stranger.

"Now here's a face I thought I might never see again."

"It was very nearly so," she admitted, watching as the warrior's mouth turned down in displeasure. "But here I am, and it seems as though you, at least, have not changed at all."

She announced warmly, her eyes bright as she tried to ignore the wild rush of emotions still pumping through her heart after her meeting with Thorin.

"Better fed, at least."

"It's true; he grows larger by the day!"

Another familiar voice added, and Evie realized it was Balin.

"Brother!"

Dwalin called to him in greeting, and although there was little family resemblance between the short, kindly white haired dwarf and his taller, dark haired, broad shouldered sibling, she could instantly recognize the kinship between them as the elder brother joined their conversation.

"Have you met Evangeline Took of the Shire?"

Dwalin asked, and the other nodded.

"Indeed I have- we just returned from a rather short conversation with Thorin."

He acknowledged, and as the pair's eyes locked together she could sense the exchange taking place in their shared glance. It made her feel cold inside- did they know something she did not? She wanted to ask, but felt too foolish. What could she possibly say? She had no right to him; she never did. It would be wrong of her to think otherwise, to even hope…

"He is preoccupied, I am sure. We were not expecting you."

Dwalin defended his friend, and Evie bit back her immediate response.

_They had not expected her._ It was the phrase on every tongue, the idea in every mind... What about _her_ expectations? Perhaps she should never have come. Perhaps this had all been a mistake... No. Her heart had told her to come. Had told her it was the right time... And it was. She was sure of it.

"Well... How about that tour?"

Balin offered an alternative to such sorry thoughts, and she readily took it.

"That would be very nice, thank you Master Balin."

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The two brothers led her through large, cavernous hallways with vaulted ceilings, past beautifully carved pillars and intricate doorways. It was clear that the dwarves were not set upon completing their work quickly- every piece of their new home was molded with great care and thoughtfulness. It was beautiful, but her mind could not linger on ornate etchings or spiraling facings. Her mind was on Thorin, and nothing could arrest the anxiety tugging at her every thought. It was silly of her, to depend so much on the response of one person, and she knew it. Her life would go on without him just as it always had, and although she wished she could promise herself that she would live without the pain of always knowing what her life could have been with him, the hobbit acknowledged that she would always have that dream in her heart, no matter what happened. She did not need him. No, of course not. How could one person ever really _need_ another? She needed air to breathe, she needed water to drink, she needed all the necessities of life to sustain herself, but love? That was not a need. It was a desire- a soaring, floating, heady sort of fantasy which tore at her heart and filled it all at the same time, a flying thing which captured her spirit and let it run free without thought of cause or repercussion- but it was not a need. How could something so wonderful be necessary? No, she did not need him. She wanted him, and she was not afraid to admit it. But her life would go on without him, if that was the choice he made. She had come here and she had shown him that she was ready for the life he had promised her, but if he could not hold true to that promise, she would move forward with a different one.

Working with the Gondorian rangers had taught her to value life and, even more than that, to appreciate those who made it worth living. That was why she was here, and if she forgot it then she had come for no reason at all. Whatever Thorin's sentiments were, Evie had a clear purpose and she refused to abandon it. She would find him and they would speak together privately, and then she would leave. But he had to know how she felt; he had to know why she had come back. If not only for her own peace of mind, then for his- the dwarf should understand that just as a king was nothing without his subjects, a life meant little without personal connection. Loneliness was a burden no one should have to carry.

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They had gone up many steps, and were now wandering into a smaller space. Balin was holding a candle, and he walked farther in so that she could see the gorgeous carvings on the walls, in the shapes of little leaves and other detailed figures.

"What do you think?"

A voice behind her sounded, and Evie almost jumped. Her heart leapt in her throat, and she had to mentally steady herself before she turned to face him.

Thorin stood in the open doorway, framed in shadow. He walked towards her, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room. The king lit another candle, further illuminating the space. They were surrounded by clean green marble, stretching from the floors all the way up to the high ceilings. Evie's eyes trailed across the tiles, and she turned to face the opposite wall, away from Thorin.

"It's beautiful…"

She complimented him, running her fingers along the cool, dappled stone. Color ran through the rock like veins, as if the very walls were full of life. The soft greens and browns reminded her of the Shire, of the great open spaces of the Wildlands. She took a deep breath, enjoying the strange sensation of her fingertips skimming across the unnaturally smooth surface. The hobbit sensed Thorin moving behind her, felt his gaze on her… She wanted to turn and meet his eyes, but couldn't muster the courage for fear of what she would see in them.

Had she turned, however, her suspicions would have been assuaged. Thorin's sapphire eyes were trained on her, indeed, but they demonstrated a forceful longing and none of the coldness she dreaded. He wanted to reach out to her and take her hand, to feel her skin against his just one more time… It had been so many years; they had waited so long… Yet just as she knew his eyes were on her, so Thorin understood that Balin, Dwalin, and Belinir were watching as well. Belinir had followed him upstairs, and one word from him could end everything. One false move, one mistake, and it could all be over. The dwarf's mouth was set in a grim line once more when the blonde finally turned to face him. Breathing out through his nose, the king caught something in Evie's gaze which made his heart burn in his chest. This was a special kind of torment, and, at least for now, there was no escaping it. He would speak to Belinir, and then to her. Tomorrow, perhaps. As soon as possible.

"I must go."

He announced, frowning.

"I have business I must attend to."

Came his curt explanation. Evie should have thought it considerate that he gave her one at all, but it was hard for the hobbit to understand his natural coldness. She was accustomed to the overzealous emotion of Shirefolk and the intense sentiments of the men and women of Gondor; the stoicism of the king seemed frightfully cruel in comparison. She would have blamed it on his kind, but there was no chill in Balin's demeanor, and even the brusque Dwalin had warmed up to her after a time. She knew Thorin had the capacity to be kind, to be affectionate… Yet everything they had built together seemed to have fallen apart. He regarded her with a strange look in his eyes, but she could not place it and therefore feared its origin. He was a puzzle to her, and just when she thought she had matched up all the pieces, they seemed to change form again. She could not see the whole image, yet, and she hoped that perhaps after tonight it might be a little clearer. In any case, he was offering her food. And that was something no hobbit could protest.

She watched Thorin move to the door, but he paused before he exited behind Belinir.

"This will be your room."

He said no more than that- nothing about the duration of her stay or any implication of his feelings. She was not surprised, after everything else she had seen of him that day, yet she wished he would say more. The corner of his mouth tugged up for a split second, betraying some secret sentiment he would not dare express.

"Welcome, Evangeline Took, to Ered Luin."

As she stood there, in her temporary bedroom, surrounded by hard, insensitive stone and dwarves who very nearly resembled its unforgiving coldness, Evie realized that this was most certainly not what she had expected. But then, in life, such things rarely were.

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**Author's Note: Thank you for your patience! **** I'm still computerless, which has been hard, but I've been writing the old fashioned way with a pen and paper and although it makes editing a little tough it's been working out ok. I hope you're all doing well! My thesis is all finished (huge relief!), and I just have finals and then graduation to deal with. So I won't be posting as often as usual, although I'll try to keep you updated as often as I can. Things with Thorin and Evie are finally coming to a head, and I'm really, really excited to share it with you (maybe even in the next chapter!). Thank you so much for all your well wishes for my thesis- I really do believe it helps! 3 I look forward to your comments on this new installment!**


	21. XXI: A Fortunate Friendship

Once Evangeline's things had been delivered to the room Thorin had offered her, the hobbit tried to settle into her new living space. At least for tonight? She wasn't sure how long she would stay. Or _could_ stay, for that matter. Frowning, Evie reclined on the bed, closing her eyes. She tried to think back, to the first time she had seen him in the blacksmith shop, to his gift of her sword (as finely crafted a weapon as anyone could ask for), to that moment in the dark, surrounded by the wind and the cold and yet somehow warm. Evie bit down on her lower lip, trying to stop a sudden flood of emotion.

"_There are many things we should not do, Evangeline Took, but it seems we are both rather accomplished at ignoring such limits of propriety."_

They had been his words, but circumstances were different now._ They_ were different now. Thorin was a king, and could no longer ignore the propriety they had both previously shamed. The couple had to live up to a more rigorous standard now, and surely that was it. Surely it wasn't that he had stopped caring for her- there had been no such indication in his letters…

His correspondence had become less frequent over the last year or so, it was true, and his letters seemed less full of feeling than they had been at the beginning. Although, the hobbit reminded herself, so had hers. She had been pulled into a voluntary mire of death and sickness - after so much time spent in Gondor fighting the Harad, Evie had lost her sense of wonder and gladness at the world. The healer had changed over the last few years as well, and her letters surely reflected it. Perhaps he was only responding to her lack of cheer? She had always told herself that he was simply occupied with his own concerns, and she had been as well…

So where did that leave them? She had abandoned Gondor, she had come back to him… She was ready. But was he?

Evangeline was torn from her increasingly somber ruminations by a soft knock on the door. She raised an eyebrow, sure that it wasn't the action of any of the dwarves she knew (Dwalin, for example, had an incredible way of making a door seem like it was about to come off its hinges when he knocked, despite his attempts to be gentle – she remembered vividly the time he had woken the injured hobbit in a terrible fright when she had been ill and he had joined her and Thorin at the inn). Evie stood up, the pads of her feet making nearly no sound on the smooth tiles of the stone floor. She hesitantly opened the door, not sure who to expect on the other side.

She was surprised by a dwarf she had never met before, with long, flowing dark brown hair and warm blue eyes. Evie recognized instantly that she was female, despite the fact that it seemed it was true what she had heard about female dwarves- there was a light trail of hair running along her jawline and under her chin. It was not altogether unattractive, and looked much softer and shorter than what would account for a beard on a male dwarf. There was something dainty about this new visitor, and she demonstrated a feminine sort of strength which made Evie sure she was correct in assuming her gender. The hobbit was momentarily caught in her light blue eyes, which were opened wide in unblushing eagerness.

"So you're Evangeline Took."

The name fell from her lips as if in wonder, and Evie suddenly felt uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. It was different from that of the other dwarves, however… She seemed almost excited to meet the hobbit. The brunette's sapphire eyes sparkled as she looked her over, and the healer thought she caught something familiar in them but couldn't quite decide what it was.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Took."

She said, finally, making the conventional curtsey.

"My name is Dis."

She already seemed far more at ease with the hobbit around than anyone else had; there was something undeniably sociable about the way she stepped into Evie's room, closing the door behind her as though they were already close friends. Evie was almost taken aback, but then she realized that the familiarity she sensed was not mistaken- she had heard that name before.

"You're Thorin's sister."

She felt almost daft for saying it, but the vocal realization fell from her lips before she could restrain it.

"Yes, of course! Oh do tell me he mentioned me in one of those letters of his."

The dwarf exclaimed scathingly, and Evie came immediately to Thorin's aid.

"He did! I apologize, it has been some time since… But he described your wedding in much detail. He was so happy for you; it sounded very beautiful."

The blonde explained, her voice catching in her throat despite herself. This was Dis. It was almost as if she was a storybook character come to life- Evie had read about her, about the wedding and Thorin's admitted excitement for her… It was not often Thorin Oakenshield shared anything approaching an emotional confession, but when he had written about Dis' wedding he could not deny himself the pleasure. Evie had read the entire letter in minutes, her eyes hungry for every detail and every inclination that Thorin wished for something similar between the two of them. As eager as she was, now, to meet the king's sister, the sensible part of her recognized that their friendship might be a brief one and it tore at her heart more than she could ever bear to reveal.

"Well, at least that's something. In any case, I've heard much about you. It is _very_ nice to meet you; I was beginning to think I would never get the pleasure."

Evie's grey eyes widened, demonstrating her confusion.

"Well, you know Thorin. I kept encouraging him to invite you here, but nothing was ready yet, your room hadn't been finished- there was always something. He wanted everything to be _perfect_- which, of course, is impossible. I thought you might never come."

There was rather too much in what she said for Evie to take it all in at once. There were too many suggestions, implications… And they all seemed rather contradictory to what she had experienced so far during her time in Ered Luin.

"My room?"

She managed, and it seemed like the only thing she could easily draw out. Dis tilted her head, a wave of glossy, dark hair cascading over her stocky shoulder.

"Yes, don't you like it? It's not that it took particularly long to have ready, but Thorin was insistent on the color of the stone and the details of it… I do not think he remembered altogether that much from his visit to the Shire, but everything had to be just right so that you would feel comfortable… Is it true that your people live in holes in the ground? Not in stone but just in the dirt?"

The blonde's small mouth fell open, and she was unable to reply for a moment. How could she possibly... Her glossed eyes traveled around the room once again, taking everything in with trebled interest. _He had made this room just for her_… Had she been wrong this whole time? Did he still care for her? Her heart throbbed in her chest and a hundred questions sprang into her mind, but she knew it was best to answer Dis first- it seemed she was unafraid to share information regarding her brother and Evie was not about to be discreet regarding her interest. Not after all these years – Evie wanted to know anything and everything. And as it seemed as though Thorin wasn't going to give her any answers, she was perfectly content with prying them from his sister.

"They are quite pleasant and warm; we usually build into small hills if we can. Everything is very clean and cozy. You must come visit my mother's home in the Shire some time…"

She offered, pausing before she called the hobbit hole her mother's and not her own. It truly wasn't hers - it was the closest thing to home Evangeline Took had ever had, but it was far from a true one. Yet it might have to be, if Ered Luin was not what she had hoped. Then again, if Thorin had made a whole room for her… Dis might be embellishing the story, or he might have fashioned it long ago… Still. _Still_.

Evie took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Dis'. The dwarf grinned, and Evie was amazed at how much of Thorin was reflected in her features (or the opposite – although their personalities were very different; she had apparently lent him very little of her enthusiastic charm).

"Well, let me help you prepare for dinner."

She offered, and Evie could not refuse.

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Before long, Evangeline was in a light blue dress with golden embroidery on the bodice which she had bought in Minas Tirith long ago and had not had an occasion to wear for many years. Dis styled her hair in a dwarven fashion, braiding it and stringing a few pieces together with ribbon. Evie looked at herself in the small mirror Dis had brought along with her, and the healer's fingers brushed lightly over the opal which rested at her throat (and the chain underneath it which led to the ring tucked into the bodice of her dress). The opal served as a clear reminder of her past, of her father and her grandfather and the legacy she carried on with each breath… And then there was Thorin's ring. She had always thought of it as an emblem of her future, but now everything seemed so unsure.

"You look absolutely lovely."

Dis complimented the hobbit, placing a golden curl over her shoulder as a finishing touch. Evie smiled, her eyes meeting the dwarf's in the hand mirror. She set it down, breathing in.

"Dis?" Perhaps her voice betrayed a little too much of her fear, but Evie could not help herself. Those stunning blue eyes, a little lighter than Thorin's but capturing all the same intensity, met hers and she couldn't stop herself… "Do you think that Thorin… That he…"

She couldn't bear to ask it of her, whether out of personal modesty or because she was afraid of receiving a direct answer. Dis made a small sound of derision in the back of her throat and looked down at Evie as if the healer had just asked whether the sky was blue. Her grey eyes were wide and full of that indescribable hopefulness unique to those in love, and Dis recognized it immediately and smiled. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gestured for Evie to join her. Once the two were seated next to one another, Dis took one of the visitor's hands into her own and gave it a tender squeeze.

"If everything goes as it should, you and I will be sisters, in our own way. You are just as kind and gentle as Thorin has described you… I will not speak for him, and perhaps I have already said too much, yet I will say that I have never seen him so happy as when he talks of you."

She grinned out of the corner of her mouth, and Evie's pink lips mirrored the movement.

"Thank you…" She murmured, looking away for a moment. "I have not truly been able to speak with him since I have come here, and I know he is very busy…"

"If he has been acting strangely, do not think it is because his feelings for you have changed. It is probably the work of Belinir, and nothing more."

Evie didn't have to ask; the dwarf elaborated without provocation, "Belinir was our grandfather's main adviser. He is a great dwarf but also very old, and so are many of his ideals. He forgets that this is not Erebor, and that Thorin, as much as he may try to be, is not Thror."

Dis' small mouth bent into an unhappy shape, and she turned on the bed so that she was looking forward instead of at Evangeline.

"Nrerir, awful grump that he is, is Belinir's creature. Between the two of them I'm surprised Thorin allows himself to smile at all. Everything has to be done properly, just as it was in Erebor… It's ridiculous."

She paused, her sturdy hands (they were rather large for a female, although Evie supposed that they were normal for her race, if she did not compare them to her own dainty hobbit hands) balling into fists at her sides.

"You mentioned my wedding… What I doubt Thorin told you about it was that it almost did not happen. Fildur was not good enough for me, you see. Belinir was set on having me sent off to the Iron Hills and married to one of Dain's people as a sign of friendship between the clans and a way to establish Ered Luin all the more…" The wedding had been almost a year ago, but the anger of the incident was clear in every hard line of the brunette's body. She sighed, shaking her head.

"I get furious with him, just thinking about it. There are so few female dwarves, we are usually able to have our choice of many suitors. When I met Fildur everything just sort of… made sense. I knew there was no one else I could ever love. He's certainly no royalty, but he should not have to be. With Frerin gone I know that more falls upon me than I had ever expected, but…"

She trailed off, and Evie didn't know what to say. She reached out and placed her hand on her Dis' shoulder, attempting to comfort her as the painful recollections began to bubble up to the surface of her memory. It seemed as though they both needed someone to confide in. Exhaling, the princess continued,

"It was Thorin who put an end to it, all that sour business. He intervened and told Belinir that while he respected his opinion and thanked him for his advice, I had made my choice and I was not leaving Ered Luin. He said I could marry Fildur and that there would be no more talk on the subject. I have never been more happy in my life- and watching Thorin take control like that… He may not be our grandfather, but he is a king, in his own right. Belinir's word is practically law around here, but Thorin is king and I am glad he knows it. I cannot imagine living in the Iron Hills, so far away from everyone…"

Evie tried on an encouraging smile, leaning closer to the dwarf in camaraderie.

"But you are here in Ered Luin, you are married, and you seem very happy."

She insisted, and Dis smiled.

"I am…" Her blue eyes were bright. "And before we know it, we'll have another wedding to plan and fight with Belinir about!"

She said it with a hearty chuckle, but the idea made Evie's stomach twist around itself. She had been so worried about Thorin's feelings, what if he was not the one she had to be concerned with about after all? What if they both admitted their love for each other and yet could not be together because of the stringencies of his race and his position? She had known it would be a problem, yet somehow she had always believed that if Thorin wanted her there would be nothing strong enough to hold them back. What if she was wrong? He had been able to fight Belinir on Dis' marriage, but she was not the queen, and the union had not been with a partner of another race. And even if they could contest Belinir, what of the rest of Durin's Folk? What if they rejected her, or, worse yet, him? She had worried about such things before, but never with this kind of immediacy. What if they came so close to being together, only to have everything foiled at the last moment? She did not think she could take it. Nor could the hobbit live with herself if she continued on with these possibilities, these worst case scenarios…

It was clear Belinir did not yet take favor to her. But she had made Dwalin into a friend, and he had not approved of her at first either. _Anything is possible_, she assured herself. She had left the Shire long ago with the thought that if she had enough bravery and enough heart, she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to. Evangeline had spent the last few years fighting for other people and their happiness, and she figured it was about time she started fighting for her own.

"Why don't we go down to dinner?"

Dis' voice cut through her thoughts, and Evie nodded absentmindedly. Collecting her faculties, she set herself to the affairs of the evening. First, to dinner. Then… What would come after that? Hopefully, she mused, many more.

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**Author's Note: Thank you all for being so patient with me! I just graduated college (woo! And I got High Honors on my thesis, so thank you very much for all your well wishes! I think they definitely helped!) and I moved out of my apartment and all kinds of things have been going on! But, at last, here is a new chapter! And we get to meet Dis! It's been an adventure trying to characterize some of the dwarves which we get so little information about… I thought Dis would be a nice foil to Thorin's stoicism… I hope you like this new piece, and I look forward to sharing more with you soon! **** Happy Summer!**


	22. XXII: Of the Past and the Future

Evie and Dis were on their way down to dinner when the hobbit stopped in her tracks, sighting a familiar face.

"Telchar!?"

The dwarf, who had been walking away from them and down another hallway, paused mid step. He seemed reluctant to turn around and face her, although the healer couldn't begin to guess why. She was thrilled to see her old friend- one more person to remind her how they had all gotten here in the first place, to make her feel like there were more dwarves already on her side of things than she had expected. Everything seemed confused and muddled- everything but her loyalty to Durin's Folk and to Thorin himself; she did not know if there was a contest to come with Belinir or not, but if there was she could use all the help she could get. She remembered Telchar's kindliness and vibrant spirit and felt immediately at ease knowing that she would have her former companion at her side through whatever might happen.

Telchar finally turned, his mouth set into a quivering line across his face and one of his hands buried anxiously in his auburn beard.

"Miss Evangeline-"

He started, and seemed unable to finish what appeared to have been a longer thought. Evie brushed the attempt aside, curtseying politely and feeling her face light up in a broad grin.

"I'm very happy to see you, old friend."

His reaction was… unexpected. The dwarf shied away from her, as if struck. His expression turned even more grim, and the hobbit couldn't decide what she had said or did to make him react in such a way. Dis stood by, her mouth turning at the corner as she waited for the other dwarf to explain himself. As verbose as she was, she seemed disinclined to assist him. Had something happened since the last time the hobbit had seen her former travelling companion?

"Happy?" Telchar echoed, as if he barely heard her.

"I am so sorry…" The dwarf continued, searching for the right words and only finding them after a struggle. "You are too kind to greet me as a friend, to act as if I have not… I did not… I owe you a life, my lady, and I will not forget it. I still think of that night-"

"Telchar…" Evie whispered his name, startled. He went silent as she spoke, his brown eyes shifting to look down at hers with grave fear behind them. She now knew why, and the very thought horrified her. Had he truly carried this burden for so long?

"You were told that I survived?"

She asked, dumbstruck. She did not know what to say or how to react to him, how to deal with the terrible news that he had claimed such guilt for himself for so many years…

"Yes, yes of course, but… Thorin was not so easy to forgive me and I… You almost died, and it was all my fault. If I had been, if I would have just-"

"You cannot think such things." She interrupted him once more, reaching out and placing a small hand on his shoulder. "What has come before is the past, and if we wish to have a future we must learn from the past but not let ourselves become mired in it."

She advised, her grey eyes full of sincerity. "There will always be times when we are not our best selves, when we make mistakes or.." She could not complete the sentence; the pain in his eyes was so great. She squeezed his shoulder, looking up at him and desperately hoping he had not suffered for this.

"But can you… Can you ever forgive me?"

"I already have."

Came her immediate reply, without thought or hesitation.

"I forgave you as soon as I realized what had happened. The goblin struck me, not you. I was not fast enough with my blade, you were unprepared at the watch, we were all asleep… This is not your burden to bear, Telchar. We all have accidents we could hold the blame for, but to live under their shadow…"

She thought immediately of her family's history, of the guilt her father felt for leaving her mother (the same guilt she now owned, yet did little to absolve, even now), of Thorin's inescapable feeling of responsibility for his people and for their safe lodging and eventual return to Erebor, of the countless mistakes she had made in her life, the men lost in Gondor to the error of an illmade potion or a few seconds' unnecessary delay…. Failure was a part of life. To err was to be mortal. Yet when that error led to the death or suffering of others… She understood what a responsibility that reality was, and she regretted that Telchar had clung to his for so long.

"I am alive, my friend. There are many whose deaths I could claim rest on the failure of my hands to do their proper work, but to my knowledge yours are clean of such violence." She paused, her mouth twisting as she thought, "and as for Thorin… If he has been cruel to you, if he has done or said anything… It is not his right to do so, and his actions are only a reflection of the guilt he feels. If he took it out on you, it was wrong of him, and I apologize on his behalf. It was… It was a difficult time for all of us, and we should all be thankful for the lives we are given, and let the past stay behind us. Thorin is… Not so good at that, I think."

She realized, glancing away as she felt Dis' eyes fall on her. Evie did not wish to speak ill of the dwarf's brother, and she hoped it did not appear as such. It was simply an observation, and one she had not been entirely prepared to deal with, herself. But she knew Thorin, for all that he was (at least, she hoped so), and she would not have him any differently. Not that she had him at all…

Evie's mind turned in upon itself, and the hobbit clung to the one thing she knew inconsequentially to be true- they were going to be late for dinner if they did not continue down to the dining hall. All the present company could agree on this matter, it seemed, and so they continued on towards the smell of cooked meats and other savories, trying to shed the heavy veil of lamentation that was the past and step forward into what they all wished would be the future, free and full of hope.

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As they entered the dining room, the others were already assembled. There was a long oak table in the middle of the room, large and sturdy. It looked like it could carry the weight of a great amount of food, and the simple place settings surrounded an empty space prepared for just that. The room smelled rather delightful (the kitchen must have been close by), and Evie felt suddenly very hungry. She felt a lot more than that, however, when she discovered how they were all to be seated.

Evangeline was the guest of honor, as Dis explained it, placed to the right of the head of the table, where Thorin was to sit. Everyone had collected in different areas of the dining hall, laughing with each other and waiting until it was time to be seated, and the healer tried to take part in the joviality although she felt rather heavy inside.

Her small hobbit heart swelled in her chest as Thorin approached her. He was wearing a dark green tunic, simply adorned yet well made. His hair was loose with a few small braids, as was his custom, but he seemed somehow better put together than usual. He nodded to his sister, who was still standing beside Evie. Telchar had moved away to speak with another dwarf the blonde did not recognize.

"You look very well."

Thorin complimented the hobbit, and she was unsure how to reply. She mustered a fluttering 'thank you,' although she was embarrassed of how delicate it sounded. She had not been expecting his attention, after the way he had acted earlier… The dwarf extended his large hand, and she placed her petite one within it, not quite fully aware of everything that was happening. She felt like she was in a fog, dazed by everything she experienced internally when his sharp blue eyes met hers. He kissed the top of her hand, and the sensation made shivers run down her spine. Something passed between them as he looked up at her again from where he had bowed forward to kiss her hand, but Evie was not sure she understood exactly what it was. His lips on her skin made her whole body tense, made her feel weak inside. A strange heat rose in her stomach, and Evie had to fight to keep control of herself. She was no maiden, weak and vulnerable- she had seen horrors unlike anything she ever could have imagined as a little girl listening to stories of the wild, she had come through dark times and had helped others when they needed it most. That took strength, and she wasn't about to lose it now because of the way that she felt when this dwarf's eyes fell on her. She took a deep breath, steadying herself and curtseying politely to the king.

She followed him to the table, where he pulled out her chair for her to sit in. He then took his seat at the head of the table, and the other dwarves followed his model and assembled in their proper places. To Thorin's left was Belinir, then Balin, Dwalin, and Telchar. Dis sat next to Evie, and her husband Fildur was beside her. Nrerin, Tekar, and Kochar, the advisors she had met earlier, were also present, as were two more, whose names Evie did not catch in the round of introductions. Her head was spinning with so many foreign names, but she took it in stride and tried to speak to each of them as much as she could. She was saved when the food arrived and all talk died out for a time.

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The dwarves ate as though famished- Evie could have mistaken the assembly for one of travelers who had not eaten in weeks, for the way they laid into the food offered them. Two large roasts were instantly pulled apart in the center of the table, and much ale disappeared into bellies and glistened off beards before anyone thought to start a conversation.

"We must entertain our guest or she will think we are a collection of uncivil brutes."

Dis began, smiling and fondly plucking a sliver of cooked carrot from her husband's blonde beard. Evie could not deny that she was a little amazed at the proceedings- perhaps they had not had enough food on the road for her to see the dwarves eat so comfortably and heartily before (although Thorin, she noted, ate with much more decorum and seemed to be one of the few engaged in using utensils to pick apart his meal), for this was definitely a new experience for the hobbit. She rather enjoyed it, despite how she knew the rest of the Shire might have reacted to the mess they made; the dwarves were a merry company, and she appreciated that they stayed true to their nature, regardless of circumstance.

"Not at all," Evie replied to Dis, scooping more of the thick vegetable stew into her bowl before it disappeared entirely.

"We have a saying in the Shire, 'Silence during a meal is a sign either of good food or bad company.'"

She repeated, looking around at her new companions, "I am most certain this is a case of the former."

The dwarves liked that very much, and lifted their mugs to it. Although this appeared to be a common custom (they raised their glasses to many things as the night wore on- it seemed almost any opportunity to drink proved a good enough one), Evie appreciated it nonetheless.

As she sipped on her drink, her eyes traveling across the table, the hobbit began to relax. Many of these dwarves were her friends, and others she hoped to call such in time. If nothing else, she was glad to share in their company for the evening. After her experiences in Gondor, she had come to realize that even this, the enjoyment of food in good company, the ability to laugh at a joke and smile at a turn in conversation… These were small happinesses which some people were denied. Which even she had been deprived of, for perhaps too long.

But this, Evangeline felt deep within her, was a new start. Or she would make it so. She did not know if she would stay at Ered Luin, but it was not so far from the Shire. And unless things with Thorin were irrevocably altered, which she could only pray they would not be, she hoped to return and visit her friends from time to time, if nothing else. Although she was beginning to feel rather eager she might be invited to stay, not only with the hope of seeing a promise fulfilled, but because this was beginning to feel more and more like a place she could call home.

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**Author's Note: The next few chapters are coming together, and we're getting very close to something I've been working on for a **_**very**_** long time, and which is by far my favorite part of the story so far. So keep with me! It has been so nice reading your reviews and comments and getting feedback on this- I'm really enjoying writing it and I can't believe I've been working on it for six months now! Evie and Thorin have been on an incredible journey together, and they still have far to go. **** Thank you for your support and your comments, I really love hearing from you and you make this experience so much fun! I hope you're all having a great start to the summer!**


	23. XXIII: Closer

The dinner carried on in fine fashion – the banquet was freely eaten and talk freely exchanged. Evie felt almost at home in the large dwarven hall, surrounded by those she considered her friends. She had met many people in her travels, and although she had forged close companionships with some of the other healers she had worked with in Gondor, their friendship had been overshadowed by the trials of their circumstances and she did not feel the easy confidence she experienced when around these dwarves. It was strange, for her to feel so comfortable around a people so different from her own – but then again, they also shared many commonalities. A love for good food and drink, a habit of building into the earth for their homes, an intense desire to protect their kin and their elegant dwellings… The dwarves were much more grand in their designs than hobbits were, and much more secretive, that was certain, but perhaps their races were not quite so different as she had always thought. Glancing around the stone halls surrounding her, Evie felt as though she could grow accustomed to this place, to these people. Now, if only she would be offered the opportunity…

As if on command, Belinir raised his voice above the casual chatter floating around the table.

"Miss Took," he began, clearing his throat. Although Fildur's conversation with Dwalin continued on a few phrases more, the rest of the company grew silent at the elder's interruption, as perhaps he had intended for them to do. Evie breathed in, feeling the comforting pressure of Thorin's ring pressed in between her skin and the material of her dress and trying to stay calm. She had expected this…

"How is it that you came to be interested in the fate of Durin's Folk?"

Evie was not surprised by the question, but she was not eager to speak of it before the assembled party. However, if such an explanation would help him better understand her and her family's history, as she hoped it would, perhaps it was best that those around her heard, if they had not already.

"My grandfather was a traveler. He was visiting Erebor and the city of Dale when the dragon Smaug attacked. He did not survive the devastation, and his death greatly affected my family. My father followed the news regarding Durin's Folk after that terrible day, and when he heard tell of the dwarves assembling to fight the orcs at Moria, he decided it was time for him to take action. If you ask my mother she will tell you it was for no reason at all, save the silly idea that our family was linked to the dwarves of Erebor because of what had happened, but my father spoke to me of many more reasons – honor, kindness, solidarity… I believe he went because he understood what it was to have a home and all the comforts which come with it, and that he wanted to help your people reclaim what they could of that lost life."

She paused, unable to keep her eyes from drifting unconsciously to meet with Thorin's perplexing gaze across the table. It was the first time he had looked at her since they had sat down, and she had to catch her breath before continuing to speak as if nothing had happened, even as she shivered. There was so much longing in his gaze, so much wanton feeling… Whether it was for his lost home or for her she could not begin to tell.

"I went with him, and I am told he fought bravely in the Battle of Azanulbizar. Our people are not built for war, as you might surmise," (Dwalin grimaced at this, as if he felt sorry for the fact but was also in agreement with her statement) "but he did what he could." She hesitated for another moment, breathing in and trying to ignore the strange rush of emotions welling up in her chest. She was so anxious about her own affairs; thinking of her father only seemed to exacerbate her complicated sentiments, which were running rampant through her small, trembling heart. She felt strong, she knew she was strong, yet something in her quaked to know that she was here, after all this time, and that things were not so simple as she had hoped they would be. The hobbit had always believed that love and hope could conquer any obstacle – it was what she had been taught in the stories her father used to tell her of princesses and dragons (often quite unlike the very real dragon which had murdered her grandfather). But perhaps that conception of love and its unparalleled ability to make everything bow to its grace was not so real as she had always believed, and that it was not enough for her to come and act as she was. Perhaps it would never be enough. To a dwarf like Belinir –

"Fellin Took, Evangeline's father, was buried with a sword of dwarven make after the battle. Thrain saw to it that the hobbit was honored as befitting someone who had no stake in our affairs yet had sacrificed everything to support our cause. My father, as you know, was deeply affected by the battle, but he would not forget the hobbits who had come to lend us aid. Evie tended to the injured, and saved many lives that day and in those following." The number of deaths had been uncountable, unanswerable… Most of the corpses had to be burned rather than buried, a deeply degrading fate for a dwarven warrior. Those few who had been properly buried had received such treatment as a highest honor.

Evie was surprised to hear Thorin finally speak, and to come to her defense. She thanked him with her eyes, but he largely avoided meeting her gaze.

"Our Evie is an incredibly talented healer," Telchar chimed in; also ready to support his friend. "And she was the one who, as I am sure you already know, led us to Ered Luin."

Evie had little more to say, and she tried not to blush as her friend praised her. Belinir, it seemed, was not so easily satisfied.

"And how did that come to be?"

He asked, pursing his lips. He had nodded as if in approval when she shared the story of her father's sacrifice, but it appeared the elder dwarf's interrogation was not over. Evie was unsure how to reply to his newest inquiry without revealing how indelicate the whole situation truly was, but knew her silence would be even more damning.

"Thorin and I met again in Gondor, and as we spoke of Durin's Folk and his desire to find a safe place for your people to settle, I thought to suggest the Blue Mountains as a possible location…"

"It was all done very properly."

Dwalin cut in, and Evie tried not to look too thankful for his interruption and clarification. She felt like she was tripping on her words, unsteady as the world spun around her faster than usual.

"We are very fortunate that you did so," Dis joined the conversation, directing her most charming smile towards Belinir's area of the table. "Ered Luin is a wonderful home for us. I am pleased you finally had the opportunity to come and visit us, as it is largely due to you that we have been able to settle here at all."

Evie felt color rushing to her cheeks as she sensed the general agreement of the other dwarves. She did not feel as though she had done them so great a service, yet the approval lighting up so many of the eyes which were focused on her made her heart swell. Had she truly been able to make a difference? Even Belinir looked half convinced, although his brow was still a knot below his forehead and his lips refused to curve any way but down.

"And where have you been the last few years, then?"

He asked, and Evie found solid footing in a retelling of her experiences traveling, healing the sick and the wounded. She spoke for quite a while, about the people she met and the things she saw. Inevitably she explained what had happened in Gondor, the tale of the rangers fighting the Harad and the horrors she had seen.

"I have no grand stories to tell, as much as I wish I did… My time in Gondor was spent healing the injured – poisoning is a terrible way to die."

She acknowledged sadly, her eyes betraying the hollowness she felt in her heart. It reminded her of why she had come, of what she had to live for, although the possibility of that future seemed to be at a moment of trial, like a candle flickering in the wind – one strong gust was all it took to snuff it out. But that fragile, beckoning light held true for her still, and she prayed it would be kindled by the hopeful flame of another rather than extinguished forever. She glanced over at Thorin, who looked as if he was participating in a staring contest with his plate.

"Poison is the weapon of cowards."

Dwalin affirmed, setting his mug of ale down on the heavy wooden table with a loud thud. Some foam from the drink clung to his beard, but he took no notice of it, nor did anyone care to inform him of its presence.

"I agree," added Telchar, who looked slightly ill at ease. Perhaps he was still upset by Evie's reappearance and the guilt it brought back for him, despite her unbidden clemency. She treasured his support all the more for his complicated feelings towards her.

"Death of any kind is a terrible fate," Dis announced, and no one argued with her. "It is only one who has known death who can truly appreciate the fullness of life. It is not the dead we should speak of, but the living. You have performed wonders saving all those lives, Miss Took. Your work should be celebrated – let us focus on that. On those you saved."

"Aye, that is something we can all drink to!"

Balin seconded, and Dis' lips pulled up into a smile.

"To life. And what makes it worth living."

Fildur began a toast, raising his glass. The rest of the company mimicked the motion, and Evie's eyes met Thorin's as they all touched glasses. There was nothing cold in his destabilizing blue gaze – if anything, there was a strange hint of sadness. But why? Had something changed? Perhaps she was right in thinking, as Dis had led her to believe, that he still wanted to be with her, but that there were other forces holding him back? Whatever it was, Evangeline dreaded discovering it. Almost as much as she feared that such a conversation would never come, and that she had traveled all this way simply for dinner and would not be offered the chance to truly speak with Thorin Oakenshield.

"To life," the hobbit elaborated, "May we never forget the importance of every day, the value of good company," (a nod travelled around the table as Evie spoke, thanking her hosts) "and the blessings not only of prosperity, but of sharing it with others."

It was why she had come, wasn't it? And it was true. Not only for her and Thorin, but for Dwalin and Telchar and now even Balin and Dis – she was surrounded by dwarves who had shown her great and unexpected kindness. It was something she was innately grateful for; as often as there was a Nrerir or a Belinir (whose scrutinizing stare directed at her from across the table could not go unnoticed), there was a Balin or a Dis.

"What do you think of Ered Luin, Miss Took?"

Fildur asked her, as the conversation lulled.

"It is absolutely incredible what you have accomplished in only a few years. I have not had the privilege of seeing the other strongholds of the dwarves," (she mentioned no names – although she was eager to elicit a reaction from Thorin, the one she sought was not that which would respond to a name like Moria or Erebor, and the only other she could think of was the Iron Hills, which were far from Ered Luin and might spark a similar reaction from his sister)

"Yet I cannot imagine this place being far behind them in craftsmanship or grandeur."

"It is all the work of Thorin; he insisted we take our time with every stone. He wanted it to be somewhere we could feel comfortable, somewhere which felt almost like the grand halls of our fathers. It is not Erebor – I do not think such a fortress could ever be replaced – but I do believe we can be very happy here."

He finished, taking a long swig of ale. Evie watched as Thorin's grip tightened on his own mug at the evening's second mention of Erebor, and she secretly wished there was a way she could comfort him.

She remembered their discussion of Erebor, by the fireside while they were traveling together; the crushing intimacy of the moment, of their emotional and physical closeness… How she longed to regain that sentiment she could not express in words. The feeling of his fingers against her lips as she kissed his hand, the burning need shining in his eyes which promised her he was experiencing the same paralyzing desire she sensed pounding in her every heartbeat… Now he was to her left, sitting at the head of the table and completely unreachable despite their proximity. They had come so far since that evening on the road, yet she was not so sure they had moved forward as much as they had retreated from the dream they had both realized.

"Durin's Folk have come together to build Ered Luin. There is still much to be done, but the growth of the settlements in and around the mountain has been impressive."

Thorin spoke for the second time, and Evie couldn't restrain a smile at his ability to dodge Fildur's compliment. She imagined he must be a very great leader, just as she had predicted he would be, to have such kind and loyal subjects.

"The kingdom reflects the king, no doubt."

The hobbit supplied, watching as Thorin looked away from her, nodding graciously. The line of his noble jaw was set, and Evie felt as if their positions had been mirrored – she had always been the one to look away, to be unable to face him, but now it was the dwarf who avoided her gaze. She supposed the role reversal was not quite so strange as it seemed – she only hoped it was a sign of the difficult position they were put in and not of his disinterest. The blonde tried to keep her eyes off him, if she looked too long it might catch the notice of Belinir, whose critical gaze was so often on her, yet it was a difficult thing not to look at the dwarf whose image she had been dreaming about for so many long years. Evie sighed, returning her attention to her food as the conversation shifted in other directions. After dinner she would approach him and ask if they could talk, perhaps privately if that was at all possible. She knew it was probably not, but she had to try. Besides, he was a king. If he wanted to talk to her, he would find a way. Or, at least, she hoped so. She had found her way here, and now it was for him to take that last step towards her and bring the two erstwhile wanderers together at last.

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**Author's Note: Here's the next bit! There is just a little more to do and then my very favorite scene is coming up… I can't wait! I'll try to get the next chapter up soon, it will be a little shorter and I should have it done in the next day or two. It's been a challenge and a delight to start writing for some of these dwarves, both of my own creation and from Tolkien lore. I hope you are enjoying meeting them! **** Nothing like some food to bring people together…**


	24. XXIV: Turn Away

Dinner had ended, and the guests had begun to disperse. Evie hung back as she watched Thorin speak briefly with some of his advisers; Belinir in particular seemed to have more than a few things to say to the king. Eventually he parted from their company, turning to exit the room. The dwarf froze in place as he saw that Evie was waiting for him by the door. He approached the healer, his eyes demonstrating to her that he knew exactly what she would want.

"Thorin, may I speak with you?"

She asked quietly, using his personal name, and watched as the line of his jaw set even more sternly than before. She felt a small hiccup of fear bubbling at the back of her throat but she ignored it, trying to catch onto her previous bravery.

"Tomorrow."

He told her, and it sounded almost like an order. His voice was softer than she had expected, yet the tone was irrefutable.

And that was it. He bid her good evening and she just stared at him as though he had transformed into an entirely different creature right before her eyes. Where was the amorous dwarf who had given her the ring she wore around her neck? Where was the blacksmith, toiling over his anvil in order to provide for his people in whatever way he could, yet allowing himself just one night of innocent dalliance with an old acquaintance? Where was the proud prince who had so often been surprised by her? Now he was the one acting in such a manner, but in a way which made the hobbit's blood boil within her very veins.

Evie was frustrated, in every sense of the word. One moment he was kissing her hand and she was right back in Gondor upon their second meeting, and the next he was cold and distant and curt and she felt her heart become stone in response to his taciturnity. Was he truly indifferent to her, or was there so much more going on that she could not begin to understand? Dis had given her hope, but his own actions had caused her much reason to doubt that fragile, fluttering thing.

Evie did not know what to think, or what to feel. She bid her new friends good evening and allowed Balin to escort her to her room, largely in silence. The greying dwarf turned to her, outside her door, advising the guest,

"Keep your head up."

Evie's grey eyes widened, and the aging dwarf winked at her, a smile falling on his lips. He was one of Thorin's closest companions, and she was inspired by his friendliness and confidence in her, yet this seemed just one more suggestion meant to confuse her. How could everyone else feel so confident in Thorin's affections, when she herself did not feel them? She thought she knew him, she thought… She thought many things, and most of them had been challenged by her short time in Ered Luin. The hobbit could only hope that her second day would prove better than her first.

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Evangeline Took couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, tugging the sheets over her body one way and then another in an attempt to get comfortable. It wasn't that the bed was too hard (it was actually quite soft and she enjoyed the way her body sunk into it), or that the room was too cold (someone had lit a small fire in the fireplace, which was still burning), but she simply could not find peace.

Troubled grey eyes stared desperately up at the ceiling, at the tiling on the walls and all the rich green colors muted by the darkness. The dying fire in the corner lit up part of the room, and for a few minutes she absentmindedly watched the light of the flames lick up across the smooth stone, creating moving pictures on the wall around the fireplace. But this still did not calm her, and she found herself flipping herself in yet another direction. She hated this place. Or it wasn't that she hated it, really, but that perhaps she felt that she was too capable of loving it? She hated it for that, for feeling like somewhere she could belong while her situation was so unsure. No, hate was too strong a word, after all. Hobbits did not often hate. And, if anything, she recognized that it was truly jealousy which fueled her tormented nighttime contemplations. Envy for a life she wanted but might never have, for those who could live out the lives they wanted without all the pressures and obligations she and Thorin were burdened with, who could live simply and happily. She wondered for a moment what things would have been like if he had not been an Heir of Durin. If he had been another dwarf – perhaps a true blacksmith or, or… Evie shook her head, running her fingers through her blonde curls. She cared for him because of who he was, everything that he was. And his kingship was a fundamental part of his identity. He would not be the dwarf he was without it, without the constant, drumming thought of the fires of Erebor, without the pressing obligation he felt to his people… No one desired these heavy afflictions, but the dwarf who carried them was their product in every sinew.

_And now we are back to that,_ Evie thought to herself, grabbing a weak fistful of the sheets and twisting them in her hands. The longer she was here the more frustrated she got with the whole situation, but also the more she wanted to fight to be able to stay. To remain with her friends, new and old, to get to know Dis and Fildur and Balin better and reconnect with Dwalin and Telchar… And Thorin. Always, Thorin. May he be cold and distant, may his eyes turn away from her as they had so rarely done before, but it only made her desire for him stronger. His actions were so contrary to what Dis had been telling her, about his preparations for her visit and the room he built her… But it was as she had always tried to tell herself – a promise is only a collection of words, until it is enacted. Theirs was not, and as she tugged the ring out from under her nightgown and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, she tried to reconcile reality with fantasy. She had come here with a purpose, and while her cause was not so totally discouraged just yet, her desired future was looking rather grim. Yet to give up now, after everything… No, that was not an option. Evie breathed in, watching the dim light catch the silver edges of the ring.

He still cared for her. He must. He had spoken well of her at dinner, and to his sister… Even Dwalin and Balin seemed encouraging, although there was definitely something more going on under the surface that Evie wasn't aware of. She was sure it had to do with Belinir, whose questions at dinner had made her feel like a criminal under interrogation. But she had proved herself, she thought, in the end. He would favor her, she was determined of it. She had given so much to the happiness of Durin's Folk, wasn't she allowed to partake in it?

It was all too much, the hobbit realized ruefully, and finally sat up in bed. She knew there was always one thing which would help her clear her head, and that was a bit of fresh air and a short walk. She didn't know if she could have either while at Ered Luin, but she might as well make a try for it. She slipped out of bed, tugging the cover to her nightgown tightly around her diminutive frame to shield off the immediate cold. Shivering, the healer lit the candle sitting on her bedside stand. The little light seemed encouraging enough, so she padded to the door and opened it, stepping through.

The halls were dark, the high ceilings yawning above her as she snuck down the hall. She was not thinking about being so quiet, but her natural hobbit nature and her tenseness at being caught doing something which could be deemed 'inappropriate' (as she now realized sneaking around in the middle of the night most certainly would be) kept her feet slow and silent, as was the way of her race. She crept along, passing doorways to her right and left, each separated by a fair amount of space_. There must be large chambers within,_ she thought as she continued on, looking for… Well, she didn't really know _what_ she was looking for.

She found it, however, for at the end of the hall there was a door which looked very different from the others. As she got closer, the blonde realized it was, indeed, a door to the outside. She opened it cautiously, very careful not to make much noise. Once she was outside, her breath was immediately stolen by the gentle wind as it ghosted across her skin, making her curls dance around her face and snuffing out her candle. She stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, her small hands gripping the thick stone railing tightly as she looked hundreds of feet down the edge of the mountain. It was beautiful – the planes extended before her nearly infinitely, all bathed in the blue shades of nighttime, the mountains were to her right and to her – Evie's heart stopped dead in her chest.

To her left stood Thorin Oakenshield. He was wearing a dark tunic and a fur lined overcoat, and leaning against the railing of the balcony watching her with indiscreet amusement. As she noticed him and her grey eyes widened, her small mouth falling open in disbelief, the corner of his lips tugged up into a smile, as he was wont to do when he was poking fun at her. She couldn't even muster the gumption to feel angry, she was so surprised by his presence here.

"I –" She began, but what could she say?! "My lord, I did not know that you were… I simply wanted a little fresh air; I couldn't…"

"Neither could I."

She froze, staring at him as if he was an apparition. The way he was looking at her… Evie wasn't sure if she had ever seen him look at her that way before. She watched his eyes catch the ring where it rested on top of her nightgown. It was only now that she realized she had not tucked it back underneath her clothing, and she did so now, feeling hot under his gaze.

"You still wear my ring."

The hobbit wanted to turn and give him her best scathing look, but the way he said it, the almost desperate, hopeful tone of his voice… No, she was imagining things. She was projecting –

"I should go. I did not mean to disturb you, my king..."

She mumbled, turning away from him.

"No, please stay."

He asked, and she felt as if the ground was shifting beneath her. She looked back at him, her grey eyes alight with feeling. It was as if she had been waiting for him to ask her that for far longer than she cared to admit. How could she say no?

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**Author's Note: And here we are! The next chapter is my absolute favorite, as you will see very shortly! I don't have much to say at the moment, other than that I can never express enough how much I cherish your comments, as they give me the encouragement and energy to keep writing diligently and keep updating. Each one means the world to me, and I can't believe so many of you are following along! I've truly come to love this story, and I'm very excited to discover along with you where it will go!**

**Also, in case you're interested, this chapter and the next are named for Helen Jane Long songs which helped inspire me as I wrote them… This and part of the next were written to 'Turn Away' and the last bit of the next was written to 'Through the Dark.' They should be on youtube if you look them up – one link to the full album (if this website will allow me to sneak it to you) is youtube dot com slash watch?v=NfNhZwyQQEk or check out 'Porcelain (full album) Helen Jane Long' in the search bar. **

**Sorry for the cliffhanger on this one, I just couldn't resist and the next chapter should be quite long!**


	25. XXV: Through the Dark

"I had expected things to go differently."

Thorin's voice was deep, yet it did not carry very far in the windy evening air. Evangeline sighed, looking away over the balcony. She wondered how far one could see during the daytime from here. The Shire was somewhere in that direction. She supposed she would go there next, see her mother again... Maybe even stay. She didn't want to, but she also acknowledged that her traveling days, at least for a time, were behind her. She didn't want to do it anymore – to wander, to travel, to fight... Living like that was a constant struggle, and she supposed the Harad had stolen the youthful vigor she had possessed before, a vitality of heart which had made that kind of life possible. It wasn't that she felt old, because that wasn't the right word either... She was tired, however, and she freely admitted to that. All she wanted now was something simple – yet for how simple it seemed, home seemed rather hard to find.

"I am sorry... If I had known you did not want me to come, or –"

"Evangeline."

His rebuke was so breathless, so consequentially full of sentiment, that her stormy eyes snapped back up to look at him.

"Of course I wanted you to come. Although I had imagined a warmer welcome for you. To meet you when you arrived, a feast... Balin tells me you were almost turned away."

The lines on his face darkened with anger, and Evie had to stop herself from laughing. After everything, _that_ was what upset him!? Thorin Oakenshield had always been a very serious dwarf, but (naturally, she supposed) being a king had made him even more so.

"It does not matter.."

She protested, but he replied strictly,

"Yes, it does."

'_You would not be unknown to them.' _She remembered his words to her more clearly now than ever before. Perhaps it did matter. Perhaps it was even a necessity. If they were to be together, she would have to be known, and respected. But was that even feasible, for a hobbit in a very proud community of dwarves? What was possible and impossible, in that moment, seemed entirely unclear. Evie embraced the confusion, stumbling forward into the tumultuous space between reckless desire and chaste consideration and throwing caution to the wind (or breeze, more like, on the mountain's chilled heights in the middle of the night).

Evangeline opened her mouth to speak but paused in the action, her eyes searching his face.

"So you _do _want me here?"

Her voice was embarrassingly meek, chirping from the back of her throat without any force of conviction.

"I do."

His words were firm, but the hesitation on her face made him add,

"You think five years is enough to change my mind?"

She swallowed, feeling his fingertips brush her cheeks. She had not expected the physical contact, especially after the innocent regulations of their earlier interactions... She realized suddenly, as his index finger slid along her jawline, that it was not a display of distance or a way to avoid intimacy with her, but rather was indicative of the fact that he still cared for her – if there was a future in which they could be together the path which led to it involved extreme political care. The realization hit her like an unexpected blow to the chest, shattering her nerves and thrilling her to the very core. If she appeared as anything other than an ideal bride, if their relationship seemed at all unsavory...

But here, alone, with only the moon looking down on them, they were safe from the scrutiny of the other dwarves. They could take full advantage of the precious time they were given to connect and begin to understand each other again...

"I missed you..."

She confessed, her voice only a whisper. Something changed in Thorin's sapphire eyes; she watched it take hold and the sight of it made her knees feel weak beneath her. His gaze flickered down to her lips and then back up to her covetous grey eyes, and the hobbit's breath caught in her throat.

She had not thought; she had not imagined... He had seemed so distant before, so cold and removed... Now he was close, too close – or was such a thing even possible? Her small fingers wrapped around the fur lining of his coat, her lips parting as she stared helplessly into those bottomless blue eyes...

"No..." She whispered breathlessly against his lips, her fear battling with her desire. "This cannot be..."

He made a sound of protest deep in his throat. She shivered, the nearness of him making her body ache with longing. Her fingers lost themselves in the fur of his coat, and she trained her eyes on his shoulder just so she couldn't get caught by his destabilizing gaze again. She did not wish to fight him, to argue about whether or not they should be together when the only place she had ever felt that she truly belonged was in his arms. Now that everything had come to a head, now that the dwarves were making a home in the Blue Mountains and starting a life for themselves, she could not maintain the lie that she did not wish to give in to him, to relinquish her antiquated ideas of what was right or just.

"Why not?"

He finally objected, his lips only inches from hers. She could not bear it – the wonderful, heady smell of him, the closeness of his deep, needy breath rising and falling in his chest. Thorin's abject sentiment filled the air between them, and Evie wanted nothing more than to lose herself in it, in him. Why was she fighting it? What moral ground did she believe she stood on? To refuse him would be a lie, but to give in, to deign to act as his queen and corrupt his line… She knew that such a thing could not be right by his people. While half of her did not care an inch about what the other dwarves thought of their shared emotion (Could she call it love? The very thought made her heart constrict in her chest), the other half cried out against the insult to his race – they would not accept her, or him, for this. Thorin wanted nothing more than to lead his people to prosperity and do right by them, and to interfere with that, to know that she was the cause of his disgrace, would break her heart almost as much as it would to be forced to leave him.

"Do you know of the marriage customs of the dwarves?"

He paused, his eyes searching hers. It made her uncomfortable; she wanted to look away, to remove herself from his embrace, but she couldn't bear it. Ignoring propriety and good sense and everything else which should have held her back, which should have led her toward a return journey to the Shire rather than an extended visit in the mountains, Evie shook her head, launching herself head first into the abyss of her overwhelming sentiment… The recalcitrant hobbit abandoned all logic and forbearance and willingly lost the fight against her own emotional willpower. She was caught there in his arms and, despite all rationality, she wanted to be.

"Many never marry – dwarf women are few in number, and those who would take a husband are often set upon a certain groom or are very particular in their taste. Some women refuse to marry at all. It is a complicated matter, but –"

"Thorin Oakenshield, would you tell me truly that there are no female dwarves who would have one such as yourself? A king?"

He shook his head, brushing off her words like they were air. It stirred something inside of her to watch the careless way he ignored her protests. He was a dwarf who knew what he wanted and it terrified her almost as much as it made her cling helplessly to his every syllable.

"I do not know, but it matters not. I would have only one bride."

Evangeline's heart stopped. His words struck her to the marrow, and it must have shown as clear as daylight on her face.

"Evangeline… Tell me it is not what you desire. Tell me you do not wish to have me as a husband, or to take up position within my people… But do not claim to know how others will respond. Do not judge the dwarves before you truly get to know them.

"I will admit that I have spent many other sleepless nights thinking of the ramifications of this act. There will be those who will not accept it, who will deny me. But I never intended to take a wife, to allow myself the pleasure of…" he paused, the distance between them feeling far too great for a moment, "of starting a family of my own, or even simply knowing the gentle touch of one who thinks of me first and only. It was a youthful dream, one I had given up… And yet it seems we are drawn together again and again, and now you have found us a home, at least for now…"

Thorin's dark brow knotted together as he tried to reconcile the pain twisting on her expression with the words he spoke. He thought his justification would please her, and if he had been mistaken… He did not want to contemplate the consequences; the bitterness he knew would ensue. The very thought made his stormy brow furrow in apprehensive worry, the shadows under his eyes darkening.

"Thorin, I…"

Evie trailed off, unsure of how to reply. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply and listening as her voice cracked in her throat. She could not maintain this lie, this great charade… She was a hobbit and hobbits did not like to be false with others. Besides, she was a terrible actress and playing this virtuous, selfless part was far too difficult for her small heart to bear. She was not so wholly good that she did not wish for more for herself than this, than the rejection of a dream. Especially not a shared one.

Thorin did not have to speak, the lines of anguish running across his face told her clearly enough what was going through his mind. Evie's small, pink mouth hung open, words clinging to her lips like secrets, refusing to escape for fear of taking that great, staggering leap into the unknown. Her petrified grey eyes met his all too certain blue ones, and the fear she saw reflected in his gaze gave her the courage she needed to make her confession. Inhaling brokenly, she wrung her hands together in front of her and allowed herself to anxiously look down at them as she finally (_finally!_) came out and said it.

"I love you."

She was afraid to hazard a glance up at him, to see whether he was shocked or euphoric or incensed or whatever else he could possibly be feeling (although she knew which she hoped would prove his real response, she did not dare believe in the truth of it, not until he could prove it to her)…

It did not take him more than half a moment of stunned elation to demonstrate his reply to her declaration – to show her in every muscle, every bone in her body exactly what his love felt like. He swept her up into his arms, and before she could protest he kissed her, savoring the sensation of her full, paralyzingly soft lips against his as he claimed her next words for a passion which could not be vocalized. She melted into him, her hands folding against his chest and her delicate frame falling into his solid embrace.

Evie could not mentally cope with the impossible reality of this instant. The fantasies she had harbored, close to her heart, of a moment like this… But it could not be real – he could not be real. It was too perfect not to be a dream. Yet as his arms wrapped around her waist as if she was meant to fit against him and his lips fervently enveloped hers, promising more affection than any one lifetime could hold, it all felt too real to be false. She had found paradise at last, and it was not a physical place but a feeling, one which filled her up to the brim and suggested that such unlimited bliss never had to end.

.

Her fingers buried themselves in his dark, tousled hair, winding through the strands of it as he took her into his arms. She felt the pads of her feet leave the earth as the king picked her up, his sturdy, eager arms cradling the hobbit like he would never let her go. She savored the sensation, let her body feel it in every sinew; committed it to memory like a page out of a story book.

"Marry me."

Evie opened her startled grey eyes, unsure whether she had imagined his appeal. Thorin set her down, his arms surrounding her in the security of his embrace. His sapphire eyes were alight with purpose.

"What?" She asked, her breath warm on his lips, sending shivers down his spine. The dwarf smiled to think she was surprised.

"Will you, Evangeline Took, marry me? Years ago, when I gave you my ring, I meant it as a promise. Now that we are finally reunited, I would see that promise fulfilled. I would see you become my wife."

Evangeline couldn't breathe. She could not remember how to perform such a simple, necessary action, let alone recall how to form the proper words to accept his offer. She felt joy like she had never experienced before rise up in her very soul like her heart was about to take flight – bliss in its most pure, unadulterated form spread through her trembling body with uncontrollable force. Her legs threatened to give way under her, and she leaned into Thorin's embrace so she could remain standing. This was it – this was what she had been waiting for all those long years they had been separated. He had promised her this day would come, it was true, but she had refused to fully believe that such a thing could ever come to pass. She could not touch or feel or taste a promise – yet here he was, standing before her with his blue eyes searching her face for a sign of her answer, and he was more real than anything she had ever known.

Happy tears sprang to Evie's eyes as she tried to relearn the talent of speech, but it was completely lost for now. The only thing her elated, fluttering heart would allow her to do was lean forward and kiss him again, to taste the sweetness of his lips against hers and the heady rush of him pressed against her. Her small, quivering hands went to his face, her fingertips running along his jawline through the bristles of his beard. She was thankful for his steady arms around her, holding her up and pulling her close. The delight pounding through her heart was unbearable; tears cascaded down her round cheeks. As their lips parted, Evie managed to breathe, "Yes," and that was all it took for Thorin to lift her off the ground again, spinning her around him and drawing her close. It was all too perfect, too sublime – Evie felt as if she was living out one of the stories her father used to tell her of faraway princesses and the kind of love wars were fought over. She had always dreamed about what that could be like, and now suddenly she knew exactly what it was to feel so strongly about another person that nothing in the world mattered as much as being together. She pressed her cheek against the dwarf's shoulder, her arms wrapping around his neck as she shuddered against him, overwhelmed.

"Evangeline…"

The emotion in his tremulous voice assured her that he was experiencing the same overabundance of feeling – surely they were being offered more happiness in one moment than anyone could expect from an entire lifetime… Evie didn't know how to bear the blissful burden of such abject pleasure. Thorin pulled away from her, his large, calloused fingers moving to her face and brushing away her thick tears. His lips tugged into a smile, and she could see the sentiment fighting to escape his control and break through the stoic bearing he so vigorously maintained. The dwarf took one of her hands in his, kissing the top of it as he always did as if this signaled the reality of their commitment. He grinned against the soft skin on the top of her hand, and Evie had to close her eyes for a moment just to dam the irrepressible rush of her elation. They had pledged themselves to each other – they would wed, and nothing could remove him from her side. For as long as they both lived, they would be together. It was an idea beyond imagining.

"I love you, Evangeline. I have loved you for far longer than perhaps I should have…"

He paused, his sapphire eyes meeting hers and holding her there with his gaze. Evie's heart stopped in her chest. Hearing him say the words, hearing that perfect phrase in his voice… It was all too much for her to realize.

"There is no one else I would have at my side. As my queen."

The word felt so foreign to Evangeline – she had not truly measured what all this would mean. Yes, of course she had thought about how she was unsuitable to be a queen and that the dwarves would never accept her as their leader, but she had never actually considered the possibility accepting the position. Of becoming a queen. It was not just something in her father's stories about the Lady of the Wood or the leaders of men… This was real, and it was for her. She would not only be marrying Thorin, but she would be taking up the mantle of his people and ruling over them. _Ruling_… It too was a strange word for the hobbit. She had been largely independent in her life, and had rarely been given domain over anything other than the other healers she had coordinated in Gondor or the companies she travelled in… She was no queen. And yet, it seemed, perhaps she was to be one.

Yet all that, the hobbit imagined, would come in time. If she was meant to be queen, so she would be. If it was something which could be learned, she would learn it. And if it came naturally… Well, she hoped she would be capable, because there was no force in all Middle Earth strong enough to take her from Thorin's side, not after tonight.

Unable to leave the seclusion of the balcony together for fear of being seen yet equally unable to part from one another, the couple remained there for a few minutes more, wrapped up in each other's arms. Evie could not feel the cold night air when Thorin held her to him. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, savoring the sensation of him so close and, for once, not feeling as if it were stolen. She felt his lips at the crown of her forehead and smiled, enjoying the awareness of his fingers running through her golden hair. He tucked her curls behind her ear and his fingers skimmed across her soft cheek, tipping up her chin. She responded to his touch and looked up at him, her grey eyes reflecting a contentment she had never known before. The corner of his perfect mouth tugged up into a smile, and he kissed away the corresponding one which bloomed on hers.

"We should go… We cannot be found here."

He mumbled into her lips, and she moaned softly in protest, which was almost his undoing. The dwarf took a deep, shaky breath, trying to master himself.

"I will speak to Belinir in the morning, and begin making arrangements for… For the wedding."

Hearing him stumble over his words was thrilling to the hobbit; to know that she had unraveled that faultless demeanor. That she had truly arrested him, heart and soul, and that her love sick suffering had not been solitary. She grinned up at her future husband, her joy uncontainable. If she had not been able to sleep before, there was no way she could do so now, away from him. The idea that he might someday be in bed beside her, and for the rest of their lives… It was an exhilarating thought, one which proved almost too much for her to bear the avid expectation of.

"I love you…"

He murmured, and claimed her lips once more. Evangeline unfolded against him, unconsciously moving to her toes so she could get even closer. Her fingers wove into his dark hair, twisting into braids and tugging at soft tangles. They broke away slowly, each afraid to breathe as they felt the moment pass, knowing that the next would bring their separation. Evie was still in his arms, sighing as she felt him step away.

"Until tomorrow."

He acknowledged, and she nodded despondently. Yet there was a calm in her heart she had never felt before; the feeling of stability and of incomprehensible peace. She was indelibly grateful for it, and for him, and as she watched him walk away she thanked Durin himself that a day like tomorrow might actually come, and that there would be so many more tomorrows after that.

.

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**Author's Note: ! I don't have much to say, other than that I absolutely can't believe we've finally gotten here! This is the major turning point in the story, and it's something I've been working towards almost since the beginning. And after six months… Here we are! But there is so, so much more in store for Evie and Thorin, and I hope you'll stay with me and discover it as I do. I can't thank you enough for following along, and for my commenters- I can't tell you how happy I am to hear from you. Every time I read your comments it makes my day, and you inspire me to keep writing when I hit blocks and do more research to make sure everything is as faithful as it can be and I really can't thank you enough for your encouragement and your support. I hope this chapter is everything you wanted it to be- it has gone through soooo many rounds of editing and I'm actually really happy with how it turned out. It's a little more 'shameless' than I usually try to be ( ;) ), but I thought they (and you!) deserved it. In any case, thank you for reading, and don't worry, there is much more to come! Xoxoxo!**


	26. XXVI: Morning

Evie woke up and froze, immediately sitting up in her bed. She could not tell what time it was (there were no windows in her little room and so she could only imagine that it was morning and her body had awakened her as it usually did by a certain time), and it took her a moment to remember even where she was and why she was here.

The hobbit was startled by the sudden and overwhelming memory of what had happened the night previous. Or what she _thought_ had happened the night previous. How could she know for sure that it hadn't been a dream? A perfect, faultless, wild cloud of a dream she would have been happy to let carry her away had she not been such a practical creature. Yet it had felt so _real_… _He_ had felt so real…

Two hesitant fingers moved to dust across her pink lips, as if to wonder at their memory of him. She closed her eyes, recalling the indescribable sensation of his body pressed against hers, shielding her from the cold night breeze and the cares and worries of their circumstances, capturing her, body and soul, and finally surrendering to their shared passion and saying those perfect words she had been waiting to hear for so many long years…

Evie took a deep breath, getting out of bed and padding over to her trunk. She picked out her most stunning pink dress, hoping it would give her courage to face whatever the day would bring. The fabric had little patterns stitched into its surface, and the soft, deep pink complimented her rosy cheeks. It seemed to be a very undwarven color, she realized as she slipped it on over her underclothes, but she was not in the mood for trying to be someone she was not. Evangeline Took was a hobbit through and through, and she was not going to try and hide it.

Besides, it must be nearly breakfast time.

.

.

Evie had found her way downstairs and was wandering back to the dining hall (to which she had been directed by a passing dwarf who looked as though he was coordinating a group of others in their housekeeping duties for the morning), when she heard a heated conversation that stripped all her attention from breakfast and onto an entirely different subject (which was a very great thing indeed for a hobbit).

"So it is true? You wish to take this, this _Shireling_ as a bride?!"

Evie stiffened, knowing she should not be hearing this. Or that she should, but that her place was by Thorin's side, her chin in the air and her dazzling grey eyes alight with the pride the healer felt she had earned after her time in service of Durin's Folk. This was not the sort of conversation she should be eavesdropping on, and yet she could not tear herself from the doorframe where she stood, paralyzed, as she heard Thorin defending her honor. He spoke of her natural nobility, her readiness to help others and a kindness which would earn the love of his people…

"I know the dwarves of Erebor and I know Evangeline Took. They will be surprised by one another, yet I am sure they will grow to understand and care for each other as she becomes their queen."

_As_. Not if. _As._ It made her heart flutter like it was a living thing, outside of her power.

"Your father never would have allowed it. And your grandfather…"

It was as if Belinir could not even form the phrase, he found it so undignified that he should have to say anything at all. His silence seemed somehow much worse than if he had made a more lively accusation. There was a pause, and Evie tried to imagine the look of disciplined anger which must have struck Thorin's characteristically brooding countenance, to think of how his strong brow had probably knit together in one of those uncommon displays of emotion which always meant so much more for their rarity…

"He is not here to speak for himself, and while I always respect your advice, Belinir, you were Thrór's adviser, not Thrór himself."

The hobbit's eyes widened. She did not know much of Belinir but that he had been the king's adviser in Erebor and that he was seen as the eldest and grandest adviser of the dwarves, but she knew this was a great assault on his pride. He had questioned Thorin's judgment before, and it seemed he would not have the opportunity to do so again. Evie remembered distinctly the last stolen conversation she had overheard, on a similar topic, and the way Thorin had so definitely cast aside the good opinion of his closest friend… She could not imagine, now, how far they had come since that day. He had been sure then, perhaps, and he was even more certain now. The very thought made her tremble, and Evie knew she should leave before one of them exited the room and caught her there, a guaranteed way to damage whatever small favorable inkling Belinir might have felt for her. She worried that the king's harsh words might make it more difficult to befriend the older dwarf, but she proposed simply to work even harder at earning his trust and approval. It seemed, according to Thorin, this was not altogether necessary, but that meant it was all the more important.

And what's more, she realized as the reality of her circumstances set in, it meant that the life changing events of the night before had indeed taken place, and that Thorin Oakenshield did intend, at long last, to take her as his bride.

.

.

Evie was sitting with Dis in the dining hall, sipping tea and munching on biscuits and whatever other little delights could be foraged from the kitchen at such an early hour, and Evie found herself pleasantly surprised by the diversity of the offerings given by Thorin's cooks. It was certainly not as delicately flavorful as Shire food, but there was a deep richness to dwarven cooking which she could appreciate.

The healer contributed some tea she had collected in her travels, and she and Dis were sampling some with their morning cakes. Dwarves were not great tea drinkers, but they could enjoy it, she thought, at the right time and with the right palette.

Dis had been telling her of Ered Luin; their customs, the way they liked to have things done, and (of great interest to Evie) the times at which they dined. The hobbit was absorbing all she could, although underneath the casual conversation her heart pounded with thoughts of what she had heard earlier, and of the wonderful possibilities that had suddenly become realities and which lit her soul on fire.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Thorin entered the room. Dis and Evie turned to look at him at once, as if they both knew by the heavy sound of his footfalls that something was wrong. He did seem to look more haggard than usual... The king was rubbing his eyes, no doubt out of fatigue, but whether it was for lack of sleep or from a heaviness of heart neither female could begin to guess at. Evie supposed it could be both, and she desired nothing more in that moment than to be able to comfort him, to take his hand in hers, to kiss his temple in that way which displayed the utmost of feminine tenderness, to massage the tension from his tired shoulders… She was consumed with the thought of it. After the intense closeness they had shared the previous night, her physical desire for him had become tenfold. To know what it was to be more intimate with him, to feel his lips on hers, his arms around her… She ached inside to know that it would no doubt be some time before she could experience that rush of his nearness again, to feel in her very soul her every desire being satisfied by the force of his love for her.

And yet, she acknowledged, simply to know that it would come again and that they would have the rest of their lives together (oh, what a thought!) was enough, for now. To secure that future for herself, she would do anything. And that included keeping her distance from him, if that was what propriety, that malcontent spirit she had always managed to keep at bay until now, demanded.

This all meant little as Thorin came to join the two ladies, and Evie was offered a thrill as his blue eyes fell upon her and a smile lit up his face, banishing the frown which had twisted upon his lips before he had noticed her. His smiles had always been so rare, to see them now in abundance was beyond her imagining. A grin lit up her own face, and Dis stared at them both in silent awe. She had been confident in their coming together as a couple, but after their somber exchanges at dinner she doubted Evie would have received such a fine reception from her brother in the morning. Unless… Was there something they weren't telling her!? The audacity of her new friend to have kept something so consequential from her all throughout their shared breakfast was too much for Dis. Her curiosity was beginning to get the better of her royal poise, for she knew it would tirelessly gnaw at her until she said something, so the dwarf opened her mouth to demand an explanation for what seemed quite obvious before her eyes when a small troupe of gentlemen entered the room and she was forced silent by the angry look on Nrerin's face as he came to sit down at the end of the table, eyeing Thorin as though he had just committed some great offense.

"Belinir does not feel well this morning and will not come to breakfast."

He announced, his face pulling up in haughty disdain. So he would be another Evie would have to work to befriend, she acknowledged. Thorin nodded, trying to be respectful even as the hobbit noticed him bristling beside her. She sighed lightly, tucking a curl behind her ear and sneaking a supportive glance toward the king, who sat down beside her once more at the head of the table. He noticed, it seemed, and his shoulders eased back into his chair as if in acquiescence to the situation. If Belinir would not come to breakfast, so he would not come. His honor had been offended, and Thorin was sorry for that, but he would not be questioned on such a matter as the desires of his own heart. He knew that Evangeline was the right choice not only for himself, but for his people. Although sometimes he wondered if it was a choice at all – if she had not been brought to him by Durin himself to become his heir's wife. It certainly had not been Thorin's choice to fall in love with her, to learn to care for her the way he did… Everything in his nature suggested that he rule over his people alone, and yet – and yet Evie had come to him, again and again, as summer followed the long winter. How could he deny himself, and his people, her warmth? So perhaps it was not so much a choice at all, perhaps it was rather fate which had brought them together at last. Belinir would see that, if only he would give Evangeline Took a chance to show him the good she could affect wherever she went.

Evangeline sensed how pensive the king was, and while it worried her she felt assured in her future with him and in his determination to let nothing separate them now that they had come together. She noticed Tekar down the table, who was looking at her with a strange light in his eyes. Had Belinir told the other advisers of Thorin's proposal? Or perhaps Thorin himself had informed them? In any case, although he said little, Evie suspected that Tekar, at least, approved of the match. He had not spoken much with the hobbit the night before, but he seemed of a good sort, even though he was not much younger than Belinir himself.

Dwalin and Balin seated themselves next to Thorin, therefore across from Evie, and an empty chair was saved beside Dis for her husband, who was yet absent. Food was brought out aplenty for the assembled group, and Evie realized that she could get along quite well here if this was what was offered in the mornings – large, round sausages which looked ready to burst from their wrappings, all sorts of cooked meats and delicacies, some very good sugared porridge that was just to Evie's taste, and a few plates she couldn't name but were also quite marvelous.

Fildur came in a few minutes after everyone had begun eating, excusing himself for being late but not offering an explanation. He sat beside his wife, who chided him appropriately for his tardiness and joked that he must have woken to the smell of food, which earned a merry chuckle from all who heard. Evie did her best to raise Thorin's spirits, and it seemed to work as she managed to finish up her meal (it was truly second breakfast, as she had risen early and nibbled on quite a bit that morning with Dis) with a light heart. She caught Dwalin's glance across the table, and was surprised by the astounded look on his face. She would have questioned it, but thought that perhaps it was not so great a thing to bring up in the present company, in case he wore it due to a private reason.

As everyone began to stand and go about their business for the day, Thorin turned to his hobbit and explained, "I have much business to attend to, but if you like you may spend the afternoon with Dis, who can show you more of the mountain."

The blonde nodded, "I would very much like to meet some of the dwarves who live here, if that would not be strange for me to do…"

The king's thin lips morphed into a smile, and Evangeline realized she had pleased him.

"That would be well. There is a market in the foothills of the mountain; I can assemble a company to take you there. You should not go with only Dis."

"Thank you, my lord."

She replied, and the formal words felt strange on her tongue after their pledges of the previous evening. Their eyes met, and Evie knew at once that he was feeling a similar internal tension, a desire to be able to act as though they were already married and display that closeness they both currently felt but which would be the ruin of their future plans.

"It is my custom to eat at midday with my advisers. You may do so at the market if you wish, and I will see you again at dinner."

The dwarf announced, and Evie bowed her head in agreement. She wanted to seem the picture of a dutiful companion, respectful and gentle and whatever else it was she imagined a queen should be. Granted, when she was actually queen (when! what a gorgeous word!) and had little reason to put on such a show, she doubted she could do so much to be quiet and dignified, but would rather do all she could to be a part of her people, whatever that might mean. She wanted to become a part of the community, to care for her people and always work to improve their society, even if it meant leaving things like delicacy or propriety behind. _Her People_. It was new and very exciting to consider – for the dwarves of Ered Luin would be hers, soon enough, and she would be theirs. It was a delightful thought, and she kept it close as she watched Thorin leave the room, followed by his troupe of advisers, who never seemed far behind.

.

As Evie was getting up to go to her room and prepare for the walk down the mountain to visit the market, she found the exit blocked by Dwalin and Dis, who both had very stern looks on their faces. She was almost taken aback, but recognized the playful sparkle in Dis' blue eyes which reminded her all too much of the look of one of her neighbors in the Shire whenever Evie came home from an adventure. It was curiosity, sharp and incredulous, and the blonde had a feeling she would not be going anywhere until she answered a few questions.

"Dwalin, Fildur, and I will take you into the marketplace, but we're not going _anywhere_ until you tell us what has happened."

Evie tried on an expression of utmost innocence, and placed a small hand on her chest as though feigning disbelief.

"I am very sorry, but I do not know whatever you could mean…"

A smile cracked at the corner of her full lips, betraying the hobbit even as she attempted the façade.

Dwalin said nothing, but the look on his rugged face could have curdled milk.

"I should not say."

Evie countered, in all seriousness. She looked to Telchar for help, as he had also stayed behind with the group of thugs come to interrogate her, but he offered little assistance.

"It is for Thorin to tell you, it is not my place…"

The hobbit argued, feeling defenseless. Dis clung to this, however, and Evie realized she had already said too much.

"So there _is_ something to tell! Did he propose? Oh, Evangeline, you are quite the worst friend I have ever had!"

Dis exaggerated, throwing up her arms. Yet when she saw the look on her future sister's face she knew at once that it must be true. The dwarf made a delicate noise of delight and Dwalin's eyes widened even more than they had at breakfast.

"So it_ is_ true! _By my beard!"_

The expression was so loud that Evie thought the rest of the mountain must have heard it, as well as the following thundering reverberation of Dwalin's large hands as they clapped together in amazement. Evie blushed, trying not to look too pleased with herself or to admit too much. Yet how could they not know? It seemed Thorin's advisers had been told, so why not his closest friends, and his family? They were to be hers, as well, so all courtesy aside she supposed they might as well find out now, and from her. Although, she contrived, the healer could spare herself reprimand as she had not truly come out and said it.

"It is only after he had received my approval, you know," Dwalin continued, a smirk on his face. It was strange to see the tall, tattooed warrior smiling in such a way; almost unnatural. "I told him that if he was to marry outside of our folk, the only one suitable to lead us would be you. It surprised me even as I said it, but you have proven your mettle as if one of our kin, though you be made more of Shire dirt than mountain stone."

It was quite a speech coming from one such as Dwalin, and Evangeline appreciated every word. She was, indeed, made more of the flowers of the Shire and perhaps the rolling hills of the Wildlands than the hard, coarse stone of the mountain, yet she believed the two complimented each other, in their own way. They were in Eriador, after all, and perhaps a hobbit's touch might do well to further the prosperity of the dwarves of Ered Luin, as they were now. For at their core they would always be of Erebor, yet there was little she could do to save them of that longing but to make their new home as bright and as wonderful as it could be.

"I knew something was different – I have never seen Thorin with such a smile on his face. Not since we were young and he killed his first stag."

Evie almost didn't catch Dis' words, she was so wrapped up in her own contemplations of the future and trying to think out how she might meet it.

"Well, if you're all done questioning me, I think it may well be time to go down to the market."

The hobbit insisted, puffing up and trying to look authoritative. Fildur chuckled at the attempt, but indeed the group dispersed and Evie was permitted to go upstairs and prepare for the short trip down the mountain. As she bounded up the stairs to her room, past the balcony door and down the hallway she guessed she must share with Thorin himself, the blonde could barely keep the wide grin off her face. Today was going to be a wonderful day.

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**Author's Note: I hope that last chapter was everything you were hoping! It's very exciting to pass that great landmark, and now to discover Evie and Thorin's relationship now that they have both been very clear with each other about their feelings. Those of you who have guessed that it won't just be a ride on an eagle's back from here are right, but that doesn't mean that there won't be wonderful things to come! I'm really looking forward to introducing Fili and Kili, and maybe some more new characters as well…. **

**But first, I think, we've all got a wedding to look forward to! (And on the way do forgive me if I make any errors in culture, etc – there really isn't a whole lot on Dwarven culture in Tolkien's notes so I'm going to do what I can based on what I have read… Hopefully it will be lovely! I'm having a lot of fun with this, but I do want to do it as well as I can!)**


	27. XXVII: A Home for the Homeless

The market was a cacophony of diverse sounds and colorful sights as people talked over each other to try and hawk their wares, children ran in between the stalls, trying to escape their parents who trailed behind with easy frustration, and dwarves everywhere worked at their crafts and sold them to both eager and discerning customers. Evie was definitely of the first, for her grey eyes were wide with the excitement of it all. The market of the dwarves was very different from market day in the Shire, which was much calmer albeit even brighter and colorfully pretentious. In the Shire they had large swaths of cloth which went over their stalls, dyed with the brightest hues hobbits could find, yet here there were more in the way of wooden stalls with darker palettes – the dwarves preferred deep, rich colors more akin to their mountain home: blues and purples and greens which were printed upon in the ways of their kind. It was very beautiful, yet wholly unfamiliar to her. She found magic in every detail, every rune etched into leather and every intricate design pressed onto their fabrics. Her friends had worn clothes with these sorts of accents before, but to see them on such a large scale was a magnificent display indeed.

Evie did not know where to go first. She wandered down the pathways along the stalls, stopping at almost every one and trying to strike up a conversation with its owner. Most were wary of her at first – they were not accustomed to being in the presence of hobbits, and as practical as these merchants and craftsmen were, they could not help but be suspicious of anyone unknown. The dwarves were a very secretive people, but when it came down to business they were pleased to sell to anyone who respected them enough to earn the right. It did help, of course, that Dis, Fildur, and Dwalin were all in toe, and everyone recognized these three. Having a princess at one's side tended to invite politeness, the healer supposed. But besides even that, Evie had an easy way with people, and slowly, one by one, each vendor relaxed around her and spoke to her obligingly (although each was of a different sort, some kinder than others, some more stiff, some charming and others very nearly rude).

She talked to blacksmiths and cordwainers, farmers and florists, tailors, farriers, and even a few jewelry makers. She spoke to an apothecary for a long time, and they were fast friends once Evie discussed her travels with the older woman and her husband, both of whom seemed to sell the majority of the healing supplies on the market – perhaps dwarves were too stalwart to become ill very often or Durin's Folk were simply not well practiced in the arts of healing, but Evangeline supposed that would be something she would like to see improved upon at the start.

The most delightful booth she came across, however, was that of a toymaker. He had a marvelous array of little carved and painted figures, various whizzing and whirring objects, and, best of all, mechanical toys which could move as if they were real. Evie was fascinated by them, and stayed to talk to their creator for a long while. As she had with the other dwarves, she asked about his craft and where he came from, how he liked Ered Luin and if he thought business was well. His name was Boldar and he had been making such things all his life, although times had been hard for him over those long years between the fall of Erebor and Thorin's discovery of the Blue Mountains. He had been there, during Smaug's attack, and his wife had died in the inferno. Evie tried to keep her eyes from welling up as he spoke, as he shared with her something so intimate and so personal she was surprised he would speak of it to a total stranger.

Perhaps that was the legacy of these dwarves, these outcasts. It was not so great a thing to have known someone who perished in the desolation of Smaug, or the Battle of Azanulbizar. In fact, it was hard to find families untouched by these tragedies, and the many more faced by the dwarves of Erebor during their long period of exile. Most would not share such things with a hobbit, one foreign to their kind, but many as they got to know her began to open up to Evangeline, who was clearly a part of their culture even if she was not one of their people. Once they heard she had been at Azanulbizar, saw the mithril ring which proved her story was true and realized that she had done the healing work they had been so unprepared to accommodate – dwarves were very great at causing injuries to others, but not so well practiced in healing those they received. Their armor was some of the finest in all Middle Earth, but if it failed them there was often little they could do. And they had been pierced, despite their mithril and their gold… These were a people touched by war and dragonfire, and it was in their very blood.

There were some who were too young to have ever seen Erebor, yet their lives had been affected by the fire drake's decimation of their home just as surely as if they had been present for the choking smoke and the ravenous flames. They were wanderers, they were outcasts, and Evie's heart was full to the point of breaking as she heard them explain what it was to have made a home for themselves here at Ered Luin, to have market days once again with their own kind, not as peddlers trying to sell their wares to men or travelers. Dwarves would not beg, it was beneath them, and yet many had come close during their time of exile, wandering from place to place and never having quite enough to eat or somewhere they could call their own. Hearing each of their stories, listening to the tragedy of their lives and yet how they bore it with their heads held high and pride laced in every muscle – the dwarves answered her questions politely, and explained their history as if it was a natural course for their lives, not the searing pain of a people wronged at every turn. But to reclaim even a little of what Erebor had been, to be able to come together and build once again – to have a market and a stable and a large forge where their talented blacksmiths could work, a mine where a great portion of their folk could toil at their natural labor… Many spoke, also, of the great Thorin Oakenshield, who they were grateful to in so many ways… He had led them through the darkest times of their race, brought them through the course of having seemingly limitless prosperity to absolute destitution, and then slowly back up again. Ered Luin would never be Erebor, but under Thorin perhaps it would be something great of its own accord. If nothing else, it was a home, and there was not a single dwarf she met who was not thankful for that.

Evie could have cried for all the stories she heard, for the pain and the suffering yet also the joys of the start of a new life. There were children running about, and she learned that this was the first time in many years that new dwarves had been born and that mothers felt well enough to raise children again. Ered Luin was a place of growth and of healing; it was everything Evangeline ever could have hoped and her heart swelled in her chest to think that she had been a part of settling the dwarves of Erebor here. Surely they would have discovered it on their own (there had been dwarven settlements here in the past) or found somewhere equally suitable, but to imagine her own role in the lives of these wonderful, deeply sensitive (although they would not appear so), hardworking people made her light up with pride and love.

And then, to think that there was even more she could do for them, that she would become their queen and lead them forward into the prosperity they were already beginning to see… That her work was far from over, but that the benefits of the seeds she and Thorin had planted years ago were already sprouting into the loveliest of flowers… She could have wept openly for the very thought of it. That they could, and would, be her people and that she, who too wandered her whole life, could also find a home in Ered Luin.

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Dwalin was leaning against the side of the wooden stall, winding up a little mechanical boar and watching it run across the flat surface of the table many of the wares were displayed on. He was trying to look nonchalant and almost bored, but the amusement twinkling in his eyes betrayed his attempts to be casual about playing with the toys. Evie was still talking with Boldar, although now they were discussing the possibility of traveling to the Shire every now and then for their market days, as Evie believed the Shirelings would take great joy in his creations. Hobbits loved things that seemed magical, even if it went against their nature – as long as they never had to leave their homes to see such things, they were content to enjoy the wonders of the world. Evangeline would never forget the fireworks which lit up the sky like glowing rain and made unbelievable shapes which sometimes seemed more real than their surroundings – the Shire's midsummer parties had, every once in a while, been graced by a traveling wizard who brought the fireworks which had enchanted Evie's childhood. He had not come in a long time, however, and she wondered absentmindedly even now where he had gone off to. She had not seen him since before her father's death…

The healer was distracted once again by something which made a warm smile fall on her pink lips; Dis and Fildur had wandered to a nearby cart and were returning to their friends, but now Dis was holding a large bouquet of wild violets. Fildur held her hand, leading her back towards the group but whispering something in her ear as they approached, the last few rays of afternoon sun lighting up the scene and making it look like something out of a story. The hobbit grinned, remembering Dis' explanations of the difficult nature of their wedding and realizing what a struggle it must have been for them. But now they were together, and happy, and Evie couldn't help but hope that the same might happen for her and Thorin. This was the worst of it – dealing with Belinir and his associates, trying to prove herself and earn her position amongst the dwarves – but if she could survive this, they could be together. The blonde watched Fildur tuck one of the lovely purple flowers behind Dis' ear, weaving it through one of her dark braids so it would stay. He kissed her on the temple, wrapping his arm around her as they finally stopped next to the assembled group. The princess was glowing, and simply smiled at Evie when she caught her new friend staring at them. The hobbit blushed, turning back to Boldar, who was showing Dwalin an even larger mechanical creature – this time a stag.

Evie looked around at the other objects, and her eyes stuck on one of the smaller carved figures lining the edges of the stall. They were two little ravens, turned towards each other as if in confidence. She gently picked it up, and realized looking down at the base that they could come apart. She pulled at each of them and the base separated, so she was holding a raven in each hand. Intrigued, she set one of them down and was investigating the other when she was nearly startled by the older dwarf's voice above her.

"If you turn him upside down, you will see that you may hide a message in the base."

Boldar retrieved the raven she had set on the table and demonstrated how if one turned it upside down and rotated a little panel beneath the base, one could slide it out the side that used to be connected to the other raven and a small compartment was revealed.

"You can place a note in there, or something else that is small, and then close it back up… They are meant to be together, of course, but should they be separated they can carry messages just as any ravens will for a kind master."

Evie's grey eyes sparkled; she was delighted with this wonderful display. She petted the little raven figure on its sleek black head with her index finger, the carving smooth and well-constructed. Each had little dark blue gems for eyes, and she favored the sweet expressions on their faces. Evie had bought a few things here and there in the market, as she felt she should, but had not gotten anything specifically for herself, and certainly not like this.

"How much would you like for them?"

She asked, hoping the sum was not too great. She supposed she would set up a place of healing close to the main fortress of Ered Luin and earn some money that way to pay for her own things, for she had no idea otherwise how a queen was to provide for herself short of using her own talents in such a way. Certainly she did not expect Thorin to take care of her in all respects; and if he intended to then perhaps she would just offer her healing services free of charge.

These little ravens would be perfect, she thought. She remembered Dis saying something at breakfast about the raven being the house sigil of their family, which made perfect sense to Evangeline, who had grown accustomed to thinking of Thorin whenever she saw a raven, since they served as his messengers during the years of their separation. She had grown to truly favor the gorgeous, dark birds, and she did not want to pass up these enchanting little representations. Besides, who knew what she could use them for, with their secret compartments…

"For you, my lady, nothing. If you can truly create a trade between Ered Luin and the Shire, the least I can do is give you the ravens. They are one of my favorite designs, and I could not think of a better home for them. Keep them and remember me and my little shop."

He offered, and Evie was flushed with gratitude. Dwalin thought to take advantage of the old dwarf's kindness as well and asked how much he priced the boar at, but even though Boldar claimed the sum he gave him was less than the usual, the warrior still scoffed at the price, although Evie thought it rather reasonable. Perhaps one day she would surprise him with it, she mused with an inward grin. He was a good friend, and while Dwalin would never admit to enjoying such childish things, the hobbit cherished the youthful humor in his eyes as he played with the toys displayed around him.

"We should head back for dinner."

Fildur cut in, his arm still linked with his wife's. Evie nodded, thanking Boldar profusely and assuring him she would do all she could to open trade networks between Ered Luin and the Shire, which she felt fairly confident she could. The hobbits would balk at the idea at first, yet even though they always disparaged foreign visitors when they met them, no one could argue with the fine constructions offered at Boldar's shop, nor the crafts of many of the other dwarves, and the Shire would be lucky to have such useful tools and well-practiced hands at their service. There were also many things the dwarves would like, no doubt – particular foods which grew only in the warm, fertile earth of the northern parts of Eriador, and some of the more simple crafts of the hobbits. She thought a great partnership might be begun here, and a true coming together of the two peoples which reflected ultimately, she supposed, the relationship between herself and Thorin.

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It was starting to get dark as the four made their way back up the mountain and towards the large doors of Ered Luin's main stronghold. Evie stopped for a moment as they neared them, looking back over the mountainside and at the small market down below. The dwarves were taking down their stalls, folding up fabrics and tucking away their wares as the night drew in. Those children who were still at the market were sitting down and resting or impatiently tugging at their parents' clothes, trying to convince them to go home. Evie smiled, watching everyone closing up for the evening, probably to return to their dwellings and see their families, drink some ale, and rest. That seemed the way of the dwarves- they lived for the simple joys of mead and good company. Things were not so different where she had come from, for although Evie was not so great a drinker as any of her companions, she too enjoyed those simple comforts which made a life full.

She had always thought about things like that – where people were going, who they were coming home to… The thought of returning to the main hall of Ered Luin and of finding Thorin struck her as a sudden need deep in her chest, and she had already begun to turn back when Dis called down to her (the dwarf was already a little further up as she had not stopped right when Evie had).

"Thorin will blame _us_ if we don't get you back to dinner on time!"

She groaned, a wide grin on her face. They all had a rather lovely day, and for all the dark conversation the whole of it had come out to a single happy thought – that Ered Luin could and would be a home to a homeless people. And more materially, the dwarves had all collected little things here and there across the market – Dis was wearing a new brooch and cradling her flowers, Dwalin had arranged to have his axes sharpened, and Evie carried a satchel full of charming objects and foods, most specially the ravens she had been given by the toymaker. She smiled, shaking her head and walking up the path behind Dis. It had been flattened out so a cart could travel up the mountainside with supplies, no doubt, and the road was not bad at all to walk upon. Soon they were back inside, and running upstairs to change before dinner so they would not be tardy and incur the wrath of the great and mighty Thorin Oakenshield.

Evie sighed as she stepped out of her day dress and set it aside, collecting her nicer evening dress and trying to rearrange her messy hair. She felt her pulse quicken – the very idea of seeing Thorin excited her. To imagine that it was only the night previous that they had… That he had… The hobbit took a deep breath and smiled at herself in the mirror. It was time, she imagined, for some good mead and some even better company.

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**Author's Note:** Hello lovelies! Sorry things have been a bit slower lately, I've been very busy over the summer! The next few weeks will be crazy busy for me with San Diego Comic-Con coming up, but after that I will have much more time to sit down and write! So please forgive me if it's a couple weeks until the next chapter… I will do what I can! I hope you enjoyed this chapter – it took me a while to figure out what I wanted Market Day to be and I like how it turned out. I look forward to reading your comments! Xoxo!


	28. XXVIII: There and Back Again

Evie came downstairs that evening in a light green dress which she had bought because it reminded her of springtime in the Shire. For as much as she always wanted to get away from it, she did acknowledge that there was something utterly beautiful about the place – and it was a beauty she appreciated more and more both as she aged and removed herself from it. Yet Ered Luin was not so far away, and the healer was confident in the prospect of new channels opening up between the mountain and the Shire. When she entered the drawing room and joined with everyone preparing for dinner, she immediately caught Thorin's eye and was forced to do everything she could not to blush as his piercing blue gaze fell upon her.

"My lady…"

He greeted the hobbit, his voice like velvet. It was beginning to be the sound of comfort to her, that deep tenor… It reassured her and strengthened her. It made her feel like she had just settled into bed after a long, hard day and was letting sleep fall over her – a striking impression of absolute relaxation and security. That was what he had become to her, a balm on a wound she had never known she possessed before he was there to heal it.

"I see Belinir has joined us for dinner."

She observed quietly, wanting to address the issue while it was just the two of them talking before everyone else joined them and the party moved into the dining room. Thorin nodded, his eyes growing cold for a moment as they tracked hers toward where Belinir was speaking with some of his cohort, but then brightening again as they returned to her face.

"He has accepted that he cannot contest the matter of our marriage."

Evie's eyes were large as she stared up at him in surprise. Her soft, pink mouth fell open, and it was all Thorin could do not to kiss it. Instead he took her hand in his and pressed his lips poignantly to the smooth skin there.

"We will announce the banquet tonight; it will be in a few days, and will serve as a general proclamation to our people that we are to be wed. There are some traditions associated with this, including an exchange of gifts, but Dis can help you select something proper. The banquet will be a great affair for a large number of guests, and then exactly one month later we will be married. There are some formalities to take care of in the interim, but we shall deal with them as they come."

He explained, and Evangeline took a deep breath. She supposed they would have to.

"And Belinir? Might we convince him to support us?"

"Perhaps."

Thorin replied darkly, yet there was less ill will in the thought than Evie had predicted. She recognized disappointment as the driving force of his sentiment. She was sorry for it, and for Belinir's opposition, but she guessed they would overcome it as they had so many other obstacles. In a little over a month they would be married, and nothing else seemed to matter so much anymore.

"I suppose this will be very difficult…"

She conceded, yet her words were countermined by the wry smile which tugged at the corner of her mouth, gaining sweetness by the moment.

"I suppose it will."

"But we will prevail upon him?"

"I believe so."

Evie's eyes shone as she looked up at her dwarf, and something connected between them as they stared into each other's eyes. The edges of Thorin's lips twitched up into a smile, and the hobbit grinned widely in response. They were torn from their silent understanding, however, as Balin cut in and suggested they should move to the dining hall, as the full company was now present.

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At dinner the table reacted well to the news, although almost everyone present had already been informed of the decision. Dwalin raised a toast, Balin gave his hearty congratulations, Dis was positively aglow with excitement and Fildur humored her by nodding and smiling at her side, Telchar was finally able to laugh again, it seemed, and even a few of Thorin's advisers appeared to be pleased with the news. Belinir, of course, did not, and his influence had visibly taken hold of a few of the other dwarves. Yet overall the table was occupied in cheering and toasting and Evie could not have hoped for anything better. Thorin was at her side, there was good food on the table, and everything was looking more and more like it would be for the best.

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Evie spent the next afternoon hard at work, reading more about the histories of the dwarves (much of which she had already learned while on her travels, as she had made the line of Durin her particular interest), receiving instruction from Dis on how to behave at certain types of ceremonies and what would be expected of her at the wedding, and, her new grand objective, learning dwarvish from Balin. He was a helpful and patient teacher (unlike Dwalin, who occasionally thought to help but usually got too frustrated to continue after the first hour of the lesson). Evie was very grateful to the white haired dwarf, as the healer found she was not very naturally adept at learning languages. It was not something she had known about herself before, but as she struggled with the proper runes for certain sounds she realized quite quickly that her task would not be an easy one. She would work on it, however, and endeavor to know as much as possible as quickly as possible, as aggravating as the process seemed to be. She could never thank Balin enough for his studious perseverance, guiding her along no matter how exasperating it became for either instructor or student.

Time passed, and the days marched on, sunset after sunrise, as surely as they always had. Evie had begun to be styled in the way of the dwarves, with braids in her hair and in colors more traditional to Durin's Folk. She kept a few of her older dresses as well, unable to fully give up the bright colors of her native people. The transition was not altogether so great, however, and Evie never felt uncomfortable in her new clothes or her new quarters. Whenever she felt out of place in the least, all she had to do was find Thorin and look into his eyes – in them was the promise of a future beyond her wildest dreams. A little bit of cloth couldn't define who she was; Evangeline Took was a hobbit of the Shire and there was no hiding that or covering it up. It was clear enough that she was not a dwarf, no matter what they dressed her in or how they did her hair. But she refused to be embarrassed of the fact. She would not be false with herself or Thorin's people, and who she was as a person was so undoubtedly tied up in the story of Durin's Folk that she doubted anyone could deny her past, even if she was of a different race.

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The banquet went as they had hoped and expected; it was a jolly gathering and although many of the guests seemed surprised at the announcement of Thorin's proposed marriage to Evangeline Took of the Shire, most seemed at peace with the idea. The reception was warm and the dwarves were kind to her, although the hobbit sensed that many were rather resigned to the idea than supportive of it – perhaps some had long harbored the hope that although Thorin always claimed he would not take a bride, had he changed his mind he would have selected one of Durin's blood. To marry outside their race was unheard of and unimaginable before now. Even in such extraordinary times, the concept seemed wrong to them, at its core.

Despite the hesitation of many of the dwarves who greeted the hobbit, most tried to show her their best selves for they knew that if she did indeed marry the king, they would need to be in favor with her. And so, all grumbling or internal disagreements aside, they came to Evie and bowed to her, offering their service and their friendship. The hobbit tried to take all this in stride; there were many people to meet and it was strange being treated so differently, yet with such respect. She had never been anything more than Evie Took, and to be acknowledged now as a future queen was altogether peculiar indeed for the humble hobbit.

When it came time for the ceremonial part of the evening, just before dinner, she felt more in her element. Evangeline had been prepared from the start with her gifts to Thorin. She offered him a brightly colored squash, a small barrel of Longbottom leaf, and a collection of lavender cakes from the Shire, as well as one of the ravens she had received from the toymaker at the market a few days before and a jeweled cutting knife fashioned by one of his best blacksmiths. Thorin was greatly impressed by this assortment, and was even more so when she announced that these were simply representations of the true gift – she had worked to open up trade between Ered Luin and the Shire. Their first shared market day would be the day before the wedding, to introduce the two races to one another through the mutual benefit of exchange, and open new pathways between the two settlements.

"The Shire has much to offer us; they harvest foods in the fertile soils there which cannot grow in the harsher climates of the mountains, and in return the masterful crafts of the dwarves will be in great demand. Our two races will come together in one month's time in more ways than one, and I endeavor to always encourage that connection and see it grow to the benefit of both peoples."

The dwarves were very impressed by this, although a great murmur went through the crowd at her announcement. Those who were still suspicious might always be, but Evie was gratified by the impressed expressions on many of the faces which looked up at her as she stood and spoke. This trade would be a prodigious step forward in the further development of their mountain home, and at the very least no dwarf could deny the joys of Shire pipe-weed, which was well known in much of Middle Earth, even to those who had never heard the word 'hobbit' before.

Thorin's gift was much more extravagant than hers, but such was perhaps to be expected. He offered her a brooch with the finest, largest opal she had ever seen, no doubt salvaged from a greater age than this one. It was cast in a brilliant golden frame, and she found it hard not to let her mouth fall open in awe of the dazzling stone. Small, sparkling rubies were set into the gold surrounding the opal, and a smaller opal hung daintily from the bottom of the structure. The entire piece glimmered in the candlelight. She was honored by his gift, and pinned it to the front of her rich purple dress without hesitation.

The couple sat together at the head of the table, and as dinner progressed affairs seemed much more akin to normal as those who were sitting near the head of the table with them were their familiars – Dis and Fildur next to Evie and then Balin and Dwalin. Thorin's advisers sat beside him, beginning with the ever charming Belinir and continuing on. Belinir seemed of a heavy heart throughout the evening, yet Evie appreciated that he said little in conversation and nothing on the subject of the marriage. Perhaps he had finally submitted to the directness of Thorin's will, as the king had previously mentioned, or perhaps he was waiting for the right time to further attempt to dissuade them. No matter the reason, Evie was thankful for his silence.

In any case, as dinner continued without interruption and the reception followed just as jovially as any celebration should have, Evie began to relax a little. She felt more comfortable in her own skin as she watched the dwarves begin to dance together and the effects of the seemingly bottomless tankards of mead present demonstrations amongst the company. She was charmed by the merry atmosphere of the gathering and the free way that the dwarves associated with one another. While their ceremonies pretended every pretense, their parties did not. All was good spirit and good company, and the hobbit was glad to be a part of it.

The night wore on with much laughter and happiness, and the only sadness Evie could find in the affair was that the couple set to wed was not permitted to be too close to each other – they were supposed to keep their distance from one another until after the wedding. Evangeline found it a silly rule (particularly after everything she and the dwarf king had already shared, far beyond the limits of propriety), but she was bound by it. Even so, there was nothing regulating how much the pair could look at each other. Evie's eyes seemed stuck to him throughout the evening, and often she caught Thorin's penetrating gaze upon her as though she could feel it physically.

They were, however, allowed one dance. Most of the dancing was the sort of revelry one could expect from a society which was composed of mostly males, yet the riotous affair calmed after a while and the makeshift band which had sprung up (many visitors seemed to have instruments on them – Evie realized that dwarves were very fond of music and each had their own instrument of choice, although she had yet to see Thorin take part) began to play something a little slower. The hobbit smiled as Thorin took one of her hands in his and placed the other at her waist; she felt rather like a young girl playing dress up as a princess in a dress two sizes too big rather than a future queen preparing for her wedding day in a dress which no doubt cost more than all her others combined and was tailored just for her. Instead of her father swinging her around the floor of their hobbit hole she was led onto the open space serving as a dance floor by Thorin Oakenshield, king at Ered Luin and her future husband.

Trying not to be stunned by the thought, she breathed in deeply and let her silver eyes meet his sapphire ones for the hundredth time that evening. As always, she found immediate relief in his gaze, and her heart was calmed. Nothing mattered when her small hand was held fast within his much larger one, and the heaviness of his other hand just above the bell of her hips made her breath stick in her throat. This was the closest they had been for days, and she was intoxicated by the warmth of him so near to her, the sweet, earthy scent of him.. He was just beyond her reach – she wanted to lean up and kiss him, to feel his thin, perfect lips brush her own just one more time… The aching desire throbbed through her heart like a vice, and when she shivered against him and he squeezed her hand in response she knew he was struggling similarly. And so they danced together, the beautiful material of her rich purple gown flowing around them as he turned her, her tiny hand still unsteady in his. He breathed in deeply as they came closer again, his nose brushing her cheek and making them both tense with secret longing. Not so secret, she supposed, if they weren't more careful, although it seemed most of the dwarves were now too drunk to notice much of the couple. Even Belinir was speaking chirpily with his cohort, although he shot the pair a wary glance every now and again as if he was honor bound to do so.

Evie was all sweetness and smiles for the rest of the night, talking with everyone who approached her and saying hello to those dwarves she recognized from previous occasions. She even danced with a few of Thorin's advisers when they asked for her hand and Thorin gave permission that such a thing was appropriate. It was, all and all, a marvelous evening, and a wonderful introduction for Evie to many of those who would soon be called her people.

The party lasted well into the night, and then, one by one, the dwarves began to lumber back home, bellies full of food and drink and good thoughts upon their minds. Thorin begrudgingly sent Dwalin and Telchar to bring Evie up to her room, since he himself was not permitted. This, at least, she understood, as much as she would have ached to steal a kiss from him, to feel his hands upon her one more time… At first a month had seemed like such a short breath of time, after so many years of waiting, yet every day it seemed to stretch longer and longer to the anxious hobbit. No matter her feelings, however, time would pass as it must, and she had much to do independently before the wedding.

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The next morning, Evangeline had promised to meet Dis at the bottom of the stairs outside the main fortress of the mountain, near where the market had been set up. The dwarf was to bring her to the stables so they could go riding together. Evie had been looking forward to the experience – after so many introductions and dinners and ceremonies she was ready to go outside and breathe in some fresh air. The healer enjoyed living in the mountain, but the air could be oppressive at times. Whether that was because of her current circumstances or because of the climate of the peak, she could not be sure, but she had an idea which was the more influential upon her health.

She hopped down the stairs one by one, feeling free of all her cares for a moment as she enjoyed the simple fact that she was alone, for once. Always with an escort, always being watched… Other than when she went to sleep at night it was a rare instance the hobbit was on her own. It was exceptionally liberating, to be out and about without supervision, and although even now she should have been with a small party she thought it would be fine just this once if she snuck out to meet Dis on her own.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, however, a shrill, inquisitive voice stopped her in her tracks. The song she had been humming died on her lips and the healer turned to approach the visitor, curious.

"Are you the one?!"

"Which one might you mean, madam?"

She asked, a little surprised when she looked up at the older dwarf and saw the dark grey curls tumbling around her face and the eager gleam in her light eyes.

"That… that hobbit who has come to ruin us."

Evangeline went cold at the words, and was rendered completely speechless for a moment. Her heart stopped in her chest, and in a panic the blonde was at a loss as to how to start it back up again.

"It _is_ you, isn't it?!" The dwarf demanded, looking the hobbit up and down and scorning her with a scowl which could have scared off a dragon.

"I would send in a petition, but there is no use in it. It will be ignored like the others. Like all decency already has been. There are many fine dwarves who _deserve_ King Thorin's hand in marriage. Who could make him happy, who could give him heirs… What can you give him?! What can you give _us_?! Trouble, that is all. Trouble and despair, to see such a great king fall to the likes of you. He deserves a fine queen, one of his people, who can lead us in the days ahead and who has earned the right."

"I- I was at the Battle of-"

Evie tried feebly, but the old dwarf cut her off almost immediately, slicing her withered hand through the air and shaking her head with angry vigor.

"You think you're so special because you were at Azanulbizar. Let me tell you, lass, that is nothing to boast about. We were all there, or we have all lost someone there. Fathers, sons, husbands, wives… So many were lost there was no counting the bodies. Do not think yourself so grand for being a part of our heritage – you are no more one of us than a passing wasp who happened to sting an orc on the battlefield. I do not know what siren's spell you have cast over the king, but know that you will never deserve him, nor the respect of his people. You are not of Durin's Folk and you have no place amongst us."

She spit onto the dirt below, narrowly missing Evie's feet as the hobbit stumbled backwards, away from the irate female. The healer's breath cracked in her throat as she panicked, her arms reaching out in front of her as if in surrender, or to protect herself from an attack. But her assailant would not strike a physical blow, only a crippling verbal one:

"He cannot break off the marriage, not now, even if he wanted to. He is honor bound to fulfill his promise to you, despite his own feelings. But you – you my little _Shireling_ – it is for you to set him free and to release him from this tainted marriage. He should marry of his own kind and give us a queen who can rule – not a witch who thinks only of herself and her own happiness, not that of those who she would rule over with such disregard. You will never be queen of us. You can steal a crown, lass, but you cannot steal a kingdom."

With that the dwarf tugged at her beard and turned on her heel, stalking away and muttering under her breath. Evie stood for a moment, trembling, unable to fully process what had just happened. As she did and the words sunk in, however, the hobbit tripped over herself, falling down onto the stone steps behind her and sitting in a crumpled heap, straining to convince her lungs to keep breathing. She struggled for a moment, trying to get a grasp on what she had just heard and begin to unpack the insult and the truth, to comprehend how much of what she had heard was real and valid and how much was simply an old, bitter dwarf claiming a grudge against the hobbit. Perhaps she had a daughter who she had hoped would marry the king, perhaps she hated outsiders, perhaps… Evie had been dealing with Belinir and his associates all this time, why was this female's accusation so much worse? Why did she feel so disrupted by it in her very heart? Evangeline had always known there would be some dwarves who rejected her, who refused her as their queen, and yet…

Perhaps it was because the healer noted the truth ringing in her accuser's words. She _was_ right, wasn't she? Evie was not of Durin's Folk. She could not give Thorin an heir. Almost every family had been touched by Azanulbizar, and while it was important that she had been there, any suitable female dwarf would have had a connection to the events of the hobbit's past just as powerful as hers were, if not more. Worst of all, what if she was correct about Thorin? He could not turn her away now that he had publicly announced their marriage, no matter the backlash. What if enough people despised her that the dwarves of Ered Luin would come into conflict, or disown their king? Had there really been unanswered petitions for Evie's removal from Ered Luin? How many?! The elder dwarf had been right about one thing, for certain – Thorin could do nothing, his decision was made… It would be on Evangeline's petite shoulders to call off the wedding and rescue Thorin's kingship. What if it came to that? Would she be able to do it? How many more dwarves felt as this one had?!

Evie had begun to hyperventilate; she wheezed as each breath fought to enter and exit her small body. The hobbit clung to the steps beneath her, fingernails digging into the stone. Her shining grey eyes closed and she forced back the prickling starts of tears where they began at the back of her eyes. She couldn't understand it, how it had come to this, how, after everything… She felt the weight of it on top of her, forcing her down into the cool, unforgiving rock and reminding her that she was soft and weak and made of something other than the enduring stone of the mountain. For once she wished she had been, and that everything could be different… She imagined that future for a moment, one with dwarven children and one in which she was not glanced at sideways as she walked down the streets, sticking out like a scar on the face of a society still rebuilding itself and always true to its exclusive nature.

_What can you give him?! What can you give __**us**__?!_

The thought rung in her ears like the echoes of a drum, too loud to be silenced and thumping through her tender heart like a blast. She was usually so confident, so sure of herself and what she wanted – but what about what _they_ wanted?! The dwarves, her people…. No, not her people. Thorin's people. They might never be her people. Perhaps they shouldn't be. She was paralyzed and stunned to her very core, completely off balance and utterly shaken.

_You can steal a crown, lass, but you cannot steal a kingdom._

Was that the truth of things? Was that the reality she had been hiding from herself, and that her friends had been hiding from her?!

Evangeline did not know what to do, but, almost immediately, she knew where she had to go.

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**Author's Note: Hello everyone! I hope you're all doing well! I've been very busy lately, and will be for the next few weeks as well, traveling and getting ready to move in mid-August. I'll try to update as I can, however! We're in an interesting place with Evie and Thorin right now, and I am curious to see how it unfolds. **** I hope you're enjoying it so far, and that this longish chapter is worth the wait! Drama at the end! Much love to all of you and I look forward to hearing from some of you if you have the time or interest to comment! Xoxo!**


	29. XXIX: For the King and the Kingdom

At least Evie could be proud of one thing – even now, she was still surprising. Belinir sat with Nrerir, the younger dwarf who had refused to admit her to the fortress when she had first arrived and who Belinir seemed to have taken on for some sort of tutelage (in judgment and discretion as much as anything else, by what the hobbit could tell). Nrerir, she had learned, was the son of Nrerin, one of Thorin's other advisers. This explained why Nrerir was given so much power, and why he allowed himself so much pomp. But all names and positions aside, Evie marched straight into her impromptu audience with Belinir, which she had set up only moments before, and pressed her palms flat against the sides of her dress as she figured out at the very last minute just what it was, exactly, she intended to say.

"Master Belinir, my apologies for such an unexpected intrusion, but there is something I feel I must ask of you."

She introduced her topic, trying to sound confident. She was everything but it, in her heart, but the strong willed female knew that if she showed too much weakness before the older dwarf he would never forgive it in her. She had to be strong and noble before him if she proposed to earn her queenship, and as of now that was her every intention. For how much longer, only time and perhaps the will of a few others would tell.

The white haired dwarf nodded, standing to bow to her as was formal practice. She curtseyed in return, drawing in a shallow breath and preparing to take the plunge. This was a risk, and a great one at that, but she felt she had to take it. The hobbit had a responsibility not only to herself, but to Thorin, and to all of the dwarves of Ered Luin. They deserved a queen fit to rule them, it was true, but she had yet to believe that such a person was not her.

"Thorin has chosen to disregard your advice on the issue of our marriage, but I have made no such decision. I have a question for you and I ask that you carefully consider it before replying, as many people will be affected by your advice," she began, pausing for a moment and trying to remind herself to breathe and speak slowly and assertively as she posited her great question, the one which had the power to define her future and that of so many others:

"Tell me, Master Belinir, loyal adviser to the great King Thrór and keeper of his secrets, which do you think would be the better future for the kingdom: for Thorin to rule unwed, or for me to marry him and become queen?"

Belinir stared at her for a moment, barely remembering to close his mouth. He had not expected such gall from the little creature, and especially not in such a manner. He thought Thorin would be the only one to talk to him, as this matter had always seemed Thorin's decision. Yet now here she was, little Shireling, standing up for herself and an idea which, no doubt, was the reason she was able to sleep at night without worrying about her future and what each day would bring.

The wizened dwarf was not so sure about all this. He did not like her, that was for certain. He may never like her. But did he have to? Did any of them have to? Thorin made it quite clear that he had made a decision, and the king proved just as solid and unmovable on the subject as the mountain he lived in. Belinir had almost surrendered, as if to give up on the entire kingdom itself, but now he saw a glimmer of hope as clear as the sunlight riding on the afternoon clouds. Was the halfling considering abandoning her bid for the throne? Was this foreigner finally acceding that he was right and she was the wrong female to lead them?

And yet, despite himself, the dwarf was not quite so hard hearted as all that. Not even after everything he had seen, everything he had suffered at the hands of his enemies, and sometimes even of his own people. He had fought in many wars and received many scars, and not all of them visible on his flesh alone. He had sacrificed much to Durin's Folk and their survival, he had watched those he loved scorched by dragonfire and choked by billowing smoke, he had witnessed the fall of his brothers in battle while he stood helplessly by, his own axe locked with an enemy's – he had known what it was to fight for his people. For all her history with the dwarves, Evangeline Took had not known the heart rending pain of Azanulbizar; she had been there, yes, but she had not felt it as they had. As those with Durin's blood had felt the communal despair, breathed it in and let it sear their lungs… She did not know what it was to be of their people, to live a wandering, simpering existence, often from one meal to another… Thorin had gotten them through it. He had always extended empty hands in the hopes that steel might one day be placed in them again, and perhaps bread also, and finally they had received such a bounty. Ered Luin was a new start, and although Belinir acknowledged Evangeline's involvement in its foundation, he also cursed her for it.

Belinir had been Thrór's adviser, and he would have been Thrain's had he lived long enough to fit a crown on his head without seeing it toppled. Now he belonged to Thorin in the same way a scepter belonged to a monarch – he was both unavoidable and invariable. He knew how things should be and he wished to see them that way. He had experienced great change in his life, and now he wanted to see his people return to the stability they had known before. Erebor was still a dream, and a hazy, fretful one at that, yet Ered Luin could be great if given the chance. But this Shireling did not know dwarf customs, she was not one of them… She would never be the queen he wanted for his people. She would never be as Thrór's wife had been, a paradigm of dwarven beauty and grace with a deep understanding of the nature of Durin's Folk and their needs. She had helped forge the greatness of Erebor just as surely as if she had placed her hands on the mallet herself, and her loss had been a precursor to that of the mountain she had always worked so bravely to improve.

Evangeline would never be as she had been. The hobbit would never be a true queen. And what of Thorin's heirs? The burden would lie on his sister to produce pureblood heirs, and even that Belinir did not approve of. Fildur was not of the sort of stock a dwarf like Belinir could respect; he had won his position with flowers and affections, not with steel and will, as the counselor had. Fildur was weak in the great adviser's eyes. His sons, despite Dis' fine noble blood, would be weak as well, Belinir was sure. But what could be done? Short of matching Thorin with a more suitable bride, which seemed entirely out of the question, there was no solution to be found. Just as the hobbit herself had stated and Thorin had always expressed, it was Evangeline Took or no queen at all.

Which brought the blonde's question back to his weary ears – was it better for her to be queen or for Thorin to rule alone? He needed no assistance, surely, but would the dwarves of Ered Luin be more fulfilled, more prosperous and more contented, with a queen? Even if she was of Shire descent? It was a question worth contemplating, and it seemed as if Miss Took knew it. She offered him two weeks to make his decision; she was going on a short journey. Back to that dirty mound she had come from, no doubt. Belinir wasn't surprised. He had been impressed and shocked by her trade arrangements between the hobbits and the dwarves as anyone, but he was still not convinced her motives were pure. Even so, it was another step towards affluence for the mountains, and that he could not deny.

It seemed as if Belinir, son of Barinir, had some thinking to do.

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Everything in the Shire was remarkably green, even moreso than Evie remembered. Or perhaps her perception had simply changed, and it seemed that way compared to the dark halls of Ered Luin. No matter the reason, the hobbit appreciated the magnificent color of the leaves on the trees and the vibrant hues of the flowers she passed by on her way to her mother's hobbit hole. The landscape looked almost as if it had been painted, little clusters of flowers dotting the rolling hills and sunlight slipping through the branches of the trees hanging above her, illustrating dappled patterns of warm gold and soft shadow on the path laid out before her. Evie sighed contentedly, remembering how she used to run through these forests as a child, chasing after fireflies and making up meetings with elves, in which they always crowned her elf-friend and took her to some of the finest twilight parties she had ever experienced in her youth (short of the real parties she often enjoyed, as the Tooks had a tendency to be the talk of the Shire when they were of a mind to celebrate). The forest was her playground, and all of Middle Earth her storybook. Her father had told her enough about the world for her to elaborate upon on her own, dreaming up visits from traveling wizards and fearsome warriors alike.

What would that little girl have said if someone told her she would one day be in the position to become a queen? A right, proper queen of a stalwart people with a rich history and a rising future. That she could lead them forward into uncertain times alongside a brave and noble king, one who loved her the way Beren had loved Luthien in ages past, another story immortalized in her memory by her father. Evie wondered absentmindedly as she watched the leaves shudder on their branches as a breeze blew by, rustling the forest around her, if some day there would be stories of Thorin and Evangeline, of another forbidden love which crossed the boundaries of race and propriety yet burned through the pages of history with the force of its beauty and truth. She sincerely hoped things ended up better for them, however, than it had for Beren and his beloved. Perhaps it was better if you never made it into the stories, Evie realized, her brow furrowing – if you did it usually meant you had made some great sacrifice to earn your place there.

She was on the cusp of such a thing, herself. She imagined Thorin sitting back in his chair, complete contentment painted on his face as she told stories to their children, who sat at their feet, dozing off into their mother's skirts or climbing up their father's boots and getting tugged up onto his lap for a better seat. They could be a family, they could make a family… The possibility pulled at her, tugged at her heartstrings with the tiny, hopeful hands of the future. It was what she wanted, more than anything, but was it the _right_ thing? For them, perhaps, but for his people?

She remembered the end of the story of Beren and Luthien, calling out to her as if in protest. Of how they were granted a mortal life to spend together after all their trials were passed and their pain absolved. She wondered if she and Thorin could have such a simple, cherished reward for themselves, if they made it through their own obstacles. If she proved herself as Beren had, if she did the impossible –

Maybe she was thinking about this all wrong. She was not out to secure another's hand in marriage; that she already had, as sure as the sunlight which lingered on the path before her. It was not the king she needed to win, but the kingdom. Evie plucked at flowers along the path, collecting purples and blues and golds and bunching them into her other hand. But how could she prove herself? There were no simarils to find, no great quest to go on. How could she prove to an entire settlement of people that she was fit to rule them?

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Evie's hand hung over the little bell outside her mother's door. She paused for a moment, her fingers feeling along the long wooden panels, chipping off flaky pieces of worn yellow paint. Her father had been the last one to paint the door, and it was in very great need of another coat. The yellow was milky and faded, no longer the bright, welcoming sight of her youth. It was reflective of the occupant, she supposed. Her mother could do with a good deal more cheer. Yet Evie seemed only to bring her more grief with every visit.

Her small pink mouth turned down at the edges in a forlorn sort of pout, and the hobbit was about to turn back and see to other business before returning, but there was a shuffling sound on the other side of the door which drew her attention and made her freeze in place.

"If that's you sneaking around out there again, Abigail, you know I'm going to have to-"

The door swung back and there was her mother, rosy cheeked and just as disgruntled as any self-respecting hobbit should be at 10:00 in the morning, having been interrupted at her second breakfast by a nosy visitor at the door.

"Evangeline!"

She cried out, sweeping her daughter up into an instant hug. She held her tightly, perhaps too tightly, and Evie felt a lump growing in her throat.

"Mother…"

She named her softly, biting back a sudden wave of emotion as the other hobbit slowly let her go, squeezing her shoulders. The visitor offered her small bouquet of flowers, and Marigold took them with great thanks and abundant praises of their color and shape, despite the fact that they were simply wildflowers growing on the sides of the path and certainly nothing which would have otherwise excited her, had they not been from her daughter.

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"Is everything alright?"

Mary asked once they had settled into the kitchen and she had poured her visitor some tea and set out a plate of sweet cakes, honey, and jam. Evie sighed, leaning back in her chair and scrunching her toes together as she thought of the right thing to say and then realized that perhaps there wasn't always a right thing to say.

"I just… I wanted to visit."

She explained, and her mother laughed. "I can't remember if you have _ever_ actually wanted to visit, Evangeline Took. You like to see me and you are not so wholly disenchanted with life here in the Shire that you are not willing to come here to do so, but there has never been a time that you were eager to come, despite how much I know you enjoy my sweet cakes."

Evie smiled dejectedly, befuddled by the idea that her mother always seemed to see straight through to the quick of things, no matter the person nor the situation.

"Am I truly such a terrible daughter?"

"One of the worst," her mother confirmed, teasingly, and Evie heaved a sigh.

"But you are your father's daughter, and I would not love you the same if you weren't."

Mary grinned into her teacup, taking a sip and drifting off for a moment into a memory of Fellin and his gallivanting off into tales truly worthy of telling – of moonlit meetings with elves and encounters with dark creatures of all kinds… She worried for him, of course, and it never seemed to get easier the older they became (if anything, it was harder having little Evie running about begging for stories and adventures of her own).

"Do you think so?"

Mary raised an eyebrow, setting the cake she had been holding back down on her plate as she looked her daughter over as though the girl was suddenly someone she didn't recognize.

"Do you think I'm like he was?"

There was a pause, a long moment in which the older hobbit could not find the proper words to reply to her daughter's inquiry. How could she begin to answer her? She grasped with a terrible pang to her heart that Evangeline had still been young when her father had died, even though she had convinced them she was old enough to go with him to Moria. Mary still couldn't believe it had happened, that somehow they had stolen away her senses and stopped her from physically locking up her daughter and keeping her safe in the Shire. Yet all things happened as they would, and for a reason, Marigold believed. Maybe not to herself, but to the world on the whole. Evie's entire life had been based upon that battle – Azanulbizar was the cornerstone, the foundation of the life she had been building ever since. It had been there she had lost her father, had her first adventure, met Thorin Oakenshield and set herself down a path which led right to this very moment, and the question she was asking now.

"Your father loved adventures. He was a storyteller and even more than that he was a story maker; there were no tales he preferred more than his own, and let me tell you he had many of them. You remember most, I am sure… He had a sense of curiosity which drove him to always be moving and discovering and experiencing the world – the Shire simply was not big enough for him. He was never happy to leave me, and if I had a coin for every time he begged me to come with him I would be rich indeed, but my place has always been here. I was always the fixed point, the weathervane to his wind. He would go whichever direction he felt best, but he would always return home to me and take even greater comfort in the idea of it the longer he was gone. It was always hard, living on my own, but I've grown accustomed to it after all these years. And for a while, I had you. But you were just a smaller, feistier version of your father. If he told you a story about mountain trolls you were off on the fringes of the downs pretending to fight them off. If he had met a ranger you were tracking magical creatures through the forests and searching for the source of their power. You were never satisfied with an answer unless you could see its worth for yourself, and you never sat still for longer than a minute or two. It is a wonder my hair is not already grey from all the worry you gave me wandering around the Shire, let alone Fellin wandering around all of Middle Earth.

"And now… Now here you are. Set to marry a great dwarf prince, one of a long line of noble, rich kings the very stories of which filled your ears as a child…"

"But he sacrificed himself for others. He put his life at stake so that others might live and be happy –"

"And what have you done that is any less admirable?!" Her mother cut her off almost immediately, the lines of her face darkening with maternal outrage.

"You have saved countless lives with your healing; you have spent _years_ in service of other peoples who you barely know and to whom you have no obligation. You have aided the dwarves in their search for a home and now it seems you will dedicate your life to the service of their people."

"But am I the right person to do such a thing? I'm moving forward down a road I am not sure I am even allowed to walk upon… Who has given me permission to wander here, to pluck flowers off their branches and enjoy the sunlit trail as if I was the one who cleared the path?"

"The question is, will you also walk there when the path is dark and the way unclear?"

Yet again, Marigold had found the heart of the question and stilled her daughter's troubled conscience.

"Of course I will. But even dark paths can be guarded… I only wish there was some sure way to move forward, a manner of knowing I was walking in the right direction and that the road would lead me where it is I wish to go; to a bright future and not a dismal one."

The old hobbit smiled, leaning back in her chair as if she was an unconscious mirror of her daughter and sipping her drink with a knowing gleam in her eyes. She set her cup down and stood, gesturing for Evangeline to follow her. The hobbits stepped into another room, and Mary stopped in front of the great fireplace. Above it was a map of Middle Earth, carefully drawn by her grandfather himself.

"Do you remember what your father always used to say about maps?"

Evie sighed, gazing up at the map, which had been at its customary place on their wall far longer than she could remember.

"Sometimes there are many roads which lead to the same place."

The hobbit paused, mulling over the thought in her mind for a moment before voicing her concern, "but that makes no sense to me, right now. It is not the road I am concerned with, but the destination. Besides, there is no map to guide me."

Mary smiled, squeezing her daughter's hand. "Can you imagine how boring life would be if we could see our future laid out in ink before us? No corrections, no changes, no surprises… No, my dear, that would be quite sad indeed." Her eyes twinkled as she looked away, lost in a memory.

"When you were just a little thing you used to make your father take you to the Bindbale Wood, all the way up in North Farthing. You would run out into the forest on your own and dance among the trees, pretending to meet the kings and queens of the elves and to fight off dragons and trolls with the sword he had made you. I never approved of all that – of the elaborate stories, the tales of adventures… And particularly not of the sword, although you became so good with it that after a time I yielded to Fellin's insistence that you learn…"

She trailed off, and only spoke again once Evie leaned against her, resting her golden head on her mother's shoulder. "The reason for remembering is that you refused to carry a map. Your father would try to point out where things were and direct you about, but you rebuffed his every attempt. You would go as you wanted to, free and without a guide.

"The world has become your woods, my love, and it is so much greater and grander than the Shire. I always used to think you were meant for something special, and now I finally see just how true that premonition was."

She kissed Evie on the temple, and the younger hobbit drew in a shaky breath.

"Always be true to yourself and who you are, Evangeline. There are many who will try and doubt you. There will always be those who choose to doubt rather than to believe. But you must never doubt yourself."

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**Author's Note: I apologize for the slow updates! As I've mentioned before, it's been harder and harder to find the time to sit and write. I start my new job next week, so things should either calm down a bit or get even crazier! But I will always try to make time for Evie and Thorin, even if it takes a while. I am actually really happy with how this chapter turned out, and I hope you are too! I never plan out conversations with Marigold, they always just sort of happen. I really adore her character and I feel like the best part of my hobbit self comes out in her. **** Anyways, I hope you're all doing well, and are having fantastic summers! My best to you!**


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